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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345886">You Must Be Fireproof</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouquetiere/pseuds/bouquetiere'>bouquetiere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Mac, Bottom Mac McDonald, Child Neglect, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kink, Light BDSM, M/M, Sexual Repression, Smut, a lot of repression broh, did I say bottom mac bc, mentions of domestic violence, non-canon timeline, the religious kind, tw blood for part 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:06:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouquetiere/pseuds/bouquetiere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn't kiss. That wasn't what they did. </p><p>Or, a 4 times it doesn't happen, and the 1 time it finally does.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlie Kelly/Dee Reynolds if you squint, Dennis Reynolds/Original Female Character(s), Mac McDonald &amp; Dennis Reynolds, Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds, Mac McDonald/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I'm Feeling Something Deep Inside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi all, running through my first viewing of IASIP and I just cannot get enough of all of the quality work in here. My previous ventures on AO3 were all in the 1D fandom, and you know what they say about old habits. I'm actively working on this so I'll post new chapters once I have edited them to death and decide they are ready for the world. </p><p>Also I know it should be a 5+1, but I don't like torturing my characters for too long lol</p><p>Chapter titles taken from the song Fireproof, one of my last favorites from when they were all a unit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t happen that first time.</p><p>It doesn’t happen because they were 16, two skinny, lanky boys with peach fuzz and pimples and the wherewithal to know what <em> was </em> gay and what <em> wasn’t</em>.</p><p>That night, the first time that it doesn’t happen, wasn’t <em> that </em>different from most nights. Mac ran away from a home that wouldn’t miss him, jogging across town to the Reynolds’ mansion in the middle of the night. He tucked his thin flannel pyjama bottoms into his tube socks so he wouldn’t trip, and tied his sneakers extra tight so he didn’t have to stop to re-tie them. </p><p>The streets were dark, the bulbs in the lampposts in his part of town rarely getting changed, but that didn’t matter. Mac could run this route with his eyes closed, exactly 1.26 miles from the shitty two bedroom walk up his parents rented. He mapped it out once during detention in the library, carefully measuring with a ruler over a map of South Philly so he wouldn’t get it wrong. </p><p>Eight minutes and 36 seconds until he was under the trellis by Dennis’ window. Last month he timed it, after a particularly nasty fight that ended in a hole in the wall and a trip to the ER for both of his parents. The cops stopped asking if there was anyone he could stay with once he turned 16, but by then he had become comfortable leaving the scene of the crime, his shoes on and pyjamas tucked before the cuffs even came out. He got good at running away.</p><p>His run time would be slower if he didn’t speed up when the neighborhoods changed, pushing himself harder to get there sooner, chain link fences and beat down lemons becoming manicured lawns and six figure cars. There was no more fear, no more dodging the dark side streets or taking the shortcut. He had done it so many times it became his preferred method of getting to Dennis’ house.  </p><p>Mac didn’t need to knock to get inside anymore. In the early days he had to toss a rock at the window, but one night he threw too hard and put a quarter size crack in the glass which they blamed on a stupid bird. Then Mac just started climbing and knocking, but he twisted his ankle falling off of the trellis. So now Dennis always had it cracked, just enough so Mac could slip his fingers under and lift it open, pushing himself up and inside. </p><p>“Hey.” Dennis’ voice was slow, muffled from his pillow, like he was just about to fall asleep. His back was to the window like usual. It always bothered Mac a little bit that he could be in his own home, vulnerable with the window unlocked, without fear. </p><p>Mac pulled his pyjamas from his socks and toed off his ratty sneakers, leaving them under the window for a quick getaway, if necessary. </p><p>But much like Mac’s parents, Dennis’ parents didn’t care either. It was never necessary. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Laying on the pillow next to him was Dennis’ well worn hockey sweatshirt, where it was always waiting for Mac’s wind chilled body. Their maid, Lupita, used an unscented detergent on it so it could always smell like Dennis: that musky and fruity blend of Calvin Klein that always made Mac feel safe when he slid it on over his head. There was a rotation of sweaters for Mac to wear to sleep, but the hockey sweatshirt was his favorite. It made Mac’s heart twinge. </p><p>Dennis cared so much. Dennis was the only one who cared, really. He meticulously set up his room every single night, even on Christmas, just in case Mac needed somewhere to sleep. A selfish part of him wanted to ask Mac to just move in, leave his clothes and his life behind and just stay with him. They wore the same size in almost everything. Lupita knew his favorite meals. They went to the same school and did a lot of the same things. </p><p>They could just be together like this, always. </p><p>Mac snuggled down into the plush, expensive sheets for the third time this month and felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He wished he could do this every night, but he didn’t want to mooch. He had a place to live. It was cold and empty and there was no love but he had somewhere to live and that was good enough for now. </p><p>Dennis rolled over intuitively to face Mac, the light from the moon illuminating his pockmarked skin. They locked eyes and Mac tension eased. He was safe. This was home. </p><p>Dennis braces shone when he opened his mouth to say softly, “What was it this time?”</p><p>“Batteries in the remote died.”</p><p>Dennis snickered. “Points for being more reasonable.”</p><p>Mac let a huff escape his nostrils and a tear fell, to his chagrin. He was tired. He could have done that run 3 more times and he still wouldn’t feel this ache deep in his bones. Everything hurt. His spirit was weary. Mac’s parents had been neglecting him for the better part of his teen years, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t just <em> get over it already</em>. He felt very expendable, like he was only kept as a child for the tax break and nothing else (and even that was soon to run out). He learned how to cook for himself and get to school on time and do his own laundry because neither of them cared enough to do it for him. </p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Mac held up a hand and Dennis folded his lips shut. Most nights Mac wanted to talk. But tonight wasn’t most nights.</p><p>Mac didn’t cry most nights. </p><p>“Not right now. I just want to sleep.” Mac wiped away another tear. He didn’t even register that he was crying.</p><p>Dennis pursed his lips and nodded. He desperately wanted to reach out and stop the tear trickling towards Mac’s ear, but that wasn’t what they did. “Night, Mac.” he whispered, staving off the feeling of defeat. </p><p>Mac rolled away from Dennis, another tear rolling down his cheek. </p><p>“Night.”</p><p>**********</p><p>Mac didn’t sleep. His eyes closed and he dozed, but he didn’t rest. That ache in his bones lingered. He felt heavy and nauseous and <em> filthy</em>. </p><p>Last night simply was not like most nights. </p><p>It was Saturday, and Mac rationalized that if he didn’t move, sleep would take over again. He could rest a few hours before going home to the mess his parents left behind. Dennis probably had a game or practice today, and he didn’t want to tag along. For some reason doing it today seemed pitiful. </p><p>It was still dark when Mac opened his eyes. The sun would be rising through the window opposite the one he climbed in through, casting it’s soft light over Dennis’ sleeping face. Twice a week Lupita dusted off these lovely curtains Dennis refused to use, and Mac felt ungrateful for finding that slightly annoying.</p><p>He had such a perfect life to Mac. Frank and Barbara didn’t care because they were selfish, not because they were too busy beating the shit out of one another. There was always food and snacks at the Reynolds’ house. The lights always turned on and the TVs were never broken. The sheets were always clean and the towels fresh. The least Dennis could do was close the curtains every once and awhile. </p><p>Mac was absolutely going to continue to take advantage of it in the meantime, however. </p><p>Dennis was a notably lightly sleeper, but if Mac turned over quietly enough he’d be able to stare at him for a few minutes, watch how the orange rays of the morning make his eyelashes look impossibly long. </p><p>He rolled on to his stomach slowly, measuring the sound of Dennis’ even breathing with each move until he heard him groan in a way that immediately concerned him. </p><p>Mac tossed himself casually onto his right side, preparing to act groggy for appearances sake. “You alright D-,” His sentence hung in the air, stunned from his lips.</p><p>Dennis seemed awake, but unaware Mac could see him at this moment. The sheets had been kicked off and Mac could see all of Dennis’ body, lithe and lightly toned. His right hand was down his pyjama bottoms, and there was <em> no mistake </em> of what it was doing. His eyes were blissfully closed like Mac expected them to be, the earliest tendrils of light causing his lashes to cast spindly shadows on his cheeks. He was breathy, chest rising and falling unevenly, quickly, like at any moment his face would screw up and he’d become undone.</p><p>Mac blushed instantly to his forehead, his skin suddenly white hot. The normal early morning press between his legs became strong in a way that teetered on pain, and it seemed so grossly violent to Mac that he had a desire to lean into that slight agony. He crushed his hands into fists and fought the desperate urge to touch Dennis, to touch himself. </p><p>It seemed like Dennis was dreaming, his pouty lips uttering incoherent nothings next to gentle sighs. Mac laid transfixed by the flexing of the fabric between Dennis’ legs, eyes trained to how he added a little twist of his wrist towards the tip of his dick. His mind wandered instantly to how it would feel if Dennis touched him like that, and his dick throbbed harder, taking his breath away.</p><p>On his next inhale, Mac felt his Catholic guilt creep into his brain.<em> This isn’t right. </em>He had to wake him up. Dennis was a private guy, and even though they had seen each other naked plenty of times, it was never like this. And as much as he wanted to watch until he finished and commit every single second to his spank bank memory, he needed to be able to look him in the eye when it was all said and done. </p><p><em> This? </em>This wasn’t what they did. </p><p>Mac rolled back on to his left side, gently adjusting his own erection to the waistband of his boxers to be discreet. Even the two fingers delegated to the task made him want to come on principle, but he fought off the reptilian urge to end it right there. He opted instead to swallow his needs, making a big impression of waking up to preserve some of Dennis’ dignity. He yawned rather dramatically, before rolling on to his back into a big stretch. </p><p>“Morning, Den,” he said in what felt like an even tone, loud enough to shake Dennis from his daze.</p><p>Dennis’ eyes flew open, startled from a dream that quickly slipped from his memory. It felt good, whatever had been happening, and he wondered if he could close his eyes and draw up a new fantasy from his reserves, maybe one that could feature Mac. His hand still absently stroked his dick for a few seconds before remembering he wasn’t alone. “Oh...OH!” His right hand flew from his briefs to grab quickly at the duvet, covering himself up. He coughed, sitting up quickly, turning his body away from Mac’s. “Must have had a nightmare, ahem, or something.” </p><p>Mac wanted to turn him around, tell him he had nothing to be embarrassed about. </p><p>But this was not what they did. </p><p>“You okay, Den?” Mac feigned concern, but only a little. Anything to make this less traumatizing for them both. </p><p>Dennis nervously coughed again. His dick felt engorged beyond a way that he could tolerate without this situation becoming immediately worse. “Yeah Mac, I’m...fine, fine,” Dennis fumbled quickly to remove the duvet from the bed, wrapping it around himself with zero nonchalance, leaving Mac under just the top sheet. Mac crossed his legs, hoping Dennis wouldn’t turn around. Things didn’t need to go any farther south.</p><p>“I’m gonna get in the shower, I uh, I’ve got practice?” Dennis’ voice betrayed him, cracking through what might have been a lie, he couldn’t remember. There was no focusing on anything aside from <em> I have to come now. </em> “I’ll um, I’ll be right back!”</p><p>Dennis scurried into his en suite bathroom, duvet threatening to trip him. He didn’t even turn around when he closed the door, just shut himself inside and locked the knob. He dropped the duvet to the heated tile and his head fell into his hands, absolutely mortified. How could this happen now? </p><p>His mind raced, the only common thought involving his hand on his dick and that sweet release. Moving quickly, he turned the shower tap on as hot as it could go, hoping the sound of the rushing waters could cover his moans. There was going to be no preamble, nothing smooth about this wank. Dennis felt unhinged, his right hand back into his briefs. His left hand flung out to grab the counter to steady himself and stroked hard, his eyes flinging shut. Visions of Mac flashed before his eyes, naked, on top of him, tongue in his mouth...he couldn’t even begin to refocus. </p><p>Mac kicked off the bed sheet when the bathroom door closed, planning his escape. He leapt from the bed and felt lightheaded, dick throbbing against his flat stomach. He couldn’t run home like this. He could hear the heavy stream of the tap turn on and figured he had at least 5 minutes to rub one out, though it would be a marvel if he lasted even a fraction of that time. </p><p>Carefully he untucked himself with his left hand, his vision blacking out for a second. He stumbled forward, right hand catching the window sill to hold himself up, hand furiously getting to work. Dennis’ sweatshirt still clung to his body and he breathed deep, his scent filling his nose, intoxicating him. He imagined Dennis twisting his wrist over the head of his dick and tried it on himself, a sob catching in his throat. “God, Dennis.” he whispered, biting his lip. He remembered the precious sound of Dennis groaning filling his ears like it was happening in real time and that was it, an earth-shattering, knee weakening, tidal wave of an orgasm crashed into Mac. He stood motionless, his hand and boxers uncomfortably wet, willing himself back down from the plane he ascended to before it was too late. <em> Oh God, I hope he didn’t hear me. </em>Mac cursed himself for always being so vocal.</p><p>Dennis felt drunk, the steam from the shower making the air thick. He was charging towards his orgasm with fervor, his whole body trembling. He had never been so hard, so desperate for release that it made him <em> crazy. </em> The moan escaped his lips before he could even remember that Mac -- sweet, soft, sexy Mac -- was in the next room, unaware of Dennis’ debauchery just feet away. He thought hard about what it would be like to make Mac feel this good and he imagined (<em>heard?</em>) a gentle moan that felt like it would come from Mac, pushing him over the edge. He gasped for breath as his hips stuttered and he came into his hand, the hot stickiness sullying his briefs. </p><p>Dennis made quick work of getting undressed, mind still stuck in a post orgasm haze. His hands didn’t feel like his own, clumsy and uncoordinated, as he tossed his dirty pyjamas into the hamper.  He climbed into the shower, reveling in the scalding hot water. He suddenly felt profoundly unclean. </p><p><em> I jerked off to my best friend while he was in the next room. </em> </p><p>Mac hurriedly wiped his hand on his thigh and slipped his sneakers on, not waiting for Dennis to return. He couldn’t look at Dennis after what he did, couldn’t explain a wet spot between his legs and sweat on his forehead. Couldn’t explain how he just came the hardest he’s ever come before because he was thinking about what it would be like to feel Dennis’ hand on his dick.</p><p>He lifted the window open and shimmied himself out, climbing down the trellis and landing on his feet in the soft, wood-chipped garden bed. He looked up at the open window and thought about climbing back up, telling Dennis the truth. But his boxers were soaked in come; the truth felt shameful. </p><p>Mac flipped his hood up and started jogging away, wet spot and all. The Calvin Klein now made his nose sting. That ache in his bones felt debilitating. He hoped if he kept his head down, it wouldn’t be so obvious that he was crying.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. It's Been So Long</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mac visits Dennis at school for the weekend and gets dragged to a party. Their nights take significantly different turns.</p><p>TW - blood.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello friends! We are 3 years in the future with young 19 year old MacDennis.</p><p>I definitely wanted to get this posted sooner but my inability to focus on one fic at a time took me off into another IASIP draft, so here I am, about 5 days past when I wanted this posted. This was also a lot longer than planned so I hope chapter 3 is a bit more digestible. </p><p>It's not imperative that you read and leave kudos for part 1 before reading this one, but why not? :)</p><p>There are mentions of a bloody nose (which I realize I did not plan well and I'm really sorry if this is triggering for anybody), so please stop reading after "“Fuck!” he shouted, instantly stunned. Black spots clouded his vision and he couldn’t even clearly ocularly patdown the asshole who hurt him. “What the fuck?!” and you can pick up at "Mac felt delicate standing next to him"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t happen that second time, but really, how could it have? </p><p>Mac laid on Dennis’ full size bed, watching him pick an outfit from his closet. It was about 5pm, the golden hour light giving the small dorm room a soft glow. He had come to visit Dennis and Dee at school, the second time that month, because Dennis’ roommate had gone home for the weekend. Mac knew he could never get him to admit it, but Dennis hated sleeping alone. So he took the bus to UPenn, his high school backpack filled with a change or two of clothes and his tips from the bar, and followed Dennis around like the puppy he was. </p><p>It was fun, being able to get all the best parts of college without ever having to study. Dennis’ roommate was local, so Mac often got a feel for the college life, hold the education. Even if Mac could have afforded to go, the idea seemed exhausting to him. As a kid, school was just a place his parents weren’t at. Higher learning on purpose wasn’t for him. </p><p>“So listen Mac, alright? This party we’re going to is kind of exclusive,” Dennis flipped through a few button down shirts before settling on a deep navy. Mac had seen him wear it before and it always made his eyes pop. “This crowd, you know, they don’t usually let in sophomores, so we gotta look sharp and 21.”</p><p>“But we’re 19?” Mac wasn’t exactly paying attention, more focused on the fact that Dennis had pulled his shirt over his head, his hockey conditioning showing off in his toned figure. The setting sun hit Dennis’ body, gilding his skin. He quickly looked at the ceiling, not wanting to be caught staring and missing the meat of the plan.</p><p>“Obviously we are 19, but these people don’t know that! Please keep up,” Dennis pulled on a white tank before slipping on the button down. “There are going to be a lot of senior babes there. And midterms just ended, so they’re <em> absolutely </em> looking to let loose after studying for weeks.”</p><p>“So...we’re gonna lie?” Mac was pretty sure of what Dennis had planned. Except a larger part of him was deeply unsure of what was supposed to happen. Why go to a party and pretend you’re somebody that you’re not? Unless it was a costume party or a Halloween party. That made sense. </p><p>“Yes, you stupid fuck. However, I’ve <em> already </em> lied to get us into the party, and we’re gonna get away with it because you’re not gonna say a goddamn thing to anybody about how old you are, got it?” Dennis pointed a finger at Mac’s face, narrowing his gaze. </p><p>Mac didn’t feel like arguing. “Yeah, sure, Den. No telling anybody we’re 19.”</p><p>Dennis hummed his approval and went back to the task at hand, deftly buttoning his shirt closed. His finger got back to pointing, now at Mac’s body. “Is that what you’re wearing?”</p><p>Mac looked down at his Nirvana t-shirt, sleeves missing, and his acid wash jeans with holey knees. He felt comfy and he liked how his shirt started showing off his gains. “Probably. You like this shirt.” Mac ran a defensive hand over his stomach, straightening out a wrinkle. He never had to change for a party they went to before.</p><p>“No I <em> don’t </em>, and no you’re not,” Dennis said curtly, exasperated. He put a hand on his brow, irritation manifesting into a tension headache. If Mac screwed him out of a chance of fingering some busty coed tonight, he would lose his mind. </p><p>Dennis surmised if he could keep up with fucking a new girl every week, his conflicting feelings towards Mac would dissipate on their own. His professors would probably call that repression, but he had justified that because he was studying to be a psychologist, it was okay for him to process his issues on his own time. </p><p>He flipped through his remaining shirts and pulled out a burgundy button down, getting lost in the thought of Mac wearing his clothes. They would smell like Drakkar Noir for days and Dennis fought off the way that made him feel; a little bit of lust, a bit more of annoyance. So fucking what if he didn’t put that shirt in his laundry <em> right away </em> after Mac had finished wearing it. That was nobody's business but his own. </p><p>He coughed, a nervous habit that he couldn’t shake, and tossed the hung shirt at Mac’s lap. “Put that on and change your goddamn jeans. Borrow mine if you have to, just look presentable,” Dennis grabbed his toiletries bag and turned his back to Mac, hoping the pink imbue in his face wasn’t obvious. “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Mac felt profound deja vu. He watched Dennis leave the room and waited for the door to close before lifting the crisply ironed shirt to his nose, breathing in Calvin Klein for the first time in 14 days. </p><p>*</p><p>Mac held a clammy beer in his left hand, right hand stuck in the pocket of Dennis’ over starched jeans he begrudgingly wore. He was pissed, because most of the guys around him dressed exactly like how Mac was <em> before </em> Dennis made him change. And he was double pissed that Dee and Dennis both left him the moment they walked in the door, leaving him to fend for himself amongst peers with whom he had nothing in common.</p><p>This party was absolutely exclusive, with a big guy standing at the door collecting beer money and bouncing anybody that didn’t have the code word to get in (<em>Balderdash)</em>. Jock Jams and Top 40s pop blasted from two tall speakers across the room, the base tingling at his toes (also in Dennis’ shoes stupid loafers. Who the fuck has more than one pair of loafers?). Mac did his best to play it cool, but it felt like he was trying too hard. He found an empty space of wall at this crappy frat house and just leaned against it, embarrassingly alone. </p><p>Dee was sitting in the lap of one of her acting classmates on a beat-down couch not far from Mac. Her tongue was down his throat obscenely. She looked not unlike a mama bird, feeding this weak baby chick with acne and unwashed hair. Mac could only stand to look for so long, the hot dog they picked up on the way over turning in his stomach. He didn’t come to Penn to see Dee behave like this, that goddamn bitch. He was here for Dennis, and him fucking off for the first blonde he saw started to bother Mac. </p><p>If Dennis was doing him a favor asking him to come this weekend (and every weekend, really), Mac was okay acknowledging that. Maybe he didn’t want to spend his every waking moment with Charlie at the bar or at their apartment. He loved Charlie, but there were only so many times he could huff glue or play video games or help him stalk that poor waitress at the cafe up the road before he went a little stir crazy. </p><p>At least with Dennis, Mac knew he could try new things and meet new people. He felt old and married when he was cooped up with Charlie, the short hours passing by until they had to return to the bar. He wanted to feel like he was <em> really </em> 19, doing actual 19-year-old things, not pulling 16 hour days at Paddy’s to make ends meet. Mac imagined Dennis had to know this (though, to Dennis’ credit, he had never actually told him), and still chose to leave him alone. </p><p>That didn’t sit well with Mac. </p><p>From across the room, a leggy brunette also standing alone finally caught Mac’s eye. She was pretty, even for Mac’s standards, and was eyeing him up and down like a predator. Mac hadn’t touched anyone but himself in nearly a year, the last being when he fumbled around with a much older woman that hung around the bar well past last call. He hated doing that, and he knew he would hate this too, but if he closed his eyes and leaned into the Calvin Klein that still clung to the clothes he wore, he could get what he needed. </p><p>Mac glugged down what was left of his now warm beer and placed the can on the floor next to him. He started dodging dancing bodies to get to that girl, her eyes not once leaving his as he moved towards her. </p><p>She wore a tube top that was a size too small seemingly on purpose, full breasts threatening to spill over with one wrong (or well timed) move. Her jeans sank low beneath her pierced belly button, the tease of a hot pink thong peeking over the waistband. The glitter on her chest implied she was a sorority girl, Chi Alpha something, like the many other girls at the party that had it speckled across their décolletages.</p><p>Once Mac was close enough she reached her hand out for his, pulling him close enough to say in his ear, “You’re cute.” Her sky blue press-on nails tickled his forearm, giving him goosebumps. </p><p>Mac smiled sheepishly. He didn’t want to hear this from her, but the compliment gave him a little boost, like maybe he could stand to do this. He tried to remember how to flirt, but even if he wasn’t slightly drunk he knew he could always rely on his smile. </p><p>“Yeah, cause I’m 21,” Mac said, winking at her. The girl’s face scrunched in confusion and Mac scrambled to save it. “I, uh, I mean you’re hot, too. Wanna get out of here?” The words slipped out of his mouth and he regretted them instantly. He almost hoped she couldn’t hear him so he could come up with something else to say.</p><p>“Oh fuck yeah.” her reply was obscure, but she was clearly none the wiser. She gripped Mac's clammy hand and walked to the rear of the house, pulling him with her. They snaked by Dee and Acting Classmate, his hand now up her blouse and hers in his pants. Nobody near them even cared, and Mac found that disturbing. </p><p>She weaved through the crowd to the loosely populated kitchen, unconcerned of Mac struggling to keep up through the throng of sweaty bodies, and out the back door into the fresh night air. “Hey! Where are we going?” Mac voiced lowly, fearful of shouting from the new change in volume.</p><p>The girl ignored him and kept walking the length of the backyard, past people smoking cigarettes and shotgunning beers, towards what Mac could see was a beat up shed. The flood light from the house barely illuminated the patchy lawn, and Mac had to squint to tell what it was. It didn’t seem like the most romantic (or even clean) place, but Mac was thankful for the darkness. That way he didn’t have to look at her. </p><p>She pulled on the door and it flung open awkwardly to the protests of occupants already inside. “Hey!” A high pitched voice complained. It was too dark to make out who was there. “We’re in here and busy!”</p><p>“Okay and? I’ve known you been in here for a half an hour, Jenna,” Mac’s girl quipped back, hands on her hips. “<em>I</em><em>t </em> doesn’t take that long, like ever, so leave so I can have a turn.”</p><p>There was apparently a hooking up playbook in their sorority and Jenna was breaking a rule. Mac frowned, realizing that “it” was certainly getting a guy to come. He didn’t want to be privy to this troubling information. </p><p>Jenna groaned, adjusting her own too small tube top as she stepped into the light. Mac kept his reaction neutral at the way the spandex bunched and puckered around her large breasts, but it made him uncomfortable for her. It became clear the tops were one size fits most, and the most were probably flat chested.</p><p>Jenna's lipstick was smeared into her crimped blonde hair, which was also mussed. She glared at Mac’s girl as she walked out, leaving her companion behind. The sound of a belt buckle clinking followed her, and Mac looked to find Dennis, hiking up his own jeans, lipstick spread around his mouth. </p><p>Dennis’ heart flipped when their eyes met, but he smiled proudly to not betray his true feelings. There was a mixture of pride and jealousy swimming in his gut.</p><p>“Alriiiight Ronnie my boy!” He clapped Mac on the shoulder, using the diminutive of the shitty name his father condemned him with. Mac bristled, only a little thankful that the girl wouldn't know his actual name.</p><p>Dennis eyed the brunette lustily and Mac thought for a second about defending her honor, despite having no idea who she even was.</p><p>The girl wasn’t Dennis' type, but he absolutely approved for Mac. He lowered his voice to say “You’ve done good, buddy,” under his breath.</p><p>Mac nodded reassuringly, only being able to give him a pinched smile in return. He hated everything about this moment. Dennis rebuckled his jeans and winked at Mac, taking off in a jog in the direction of Jenna to probably finish what they had started elsewhere. </p><p>“Ugh finally,” Mac’s girl groaned, dragging him again into the darkness of the shed and pulling the door closed behind him. Mac instantly felt claustrophobic, but couldn’t find his voice. “Now that that’s over with…”</p><p>He felt her lips slam against his gaping mouth, the saccharine taste of her bubble gum lip gloss coating his tongue. His arms stayed at his sides and he kissed her back, his eyes closing to avoid getting used to the absence of light. He wanted to pretend she was anybody else, but the press of her breasts against his belly and her soft pouty lips was too strong for his booze addled brain. </p><p>Before Mac could protest, she pushed a small hand into his jeans and began palming his unaroused dick over his briefs, teasing him. Mac could feel his face get hot as he tried to focus on the sensation, willing some blood to rush down there. He knew he couldn’t get hard for this girl, this girl with nice tits and sweet lips at this party he didn’t want to be at. Maybe if he was in a good place, at a different time he could. Maybe if he didn’t feel so deeply fucked up in the head, if he wasn’t himself...</p><p>Mac leaned back away from her face, bumping into what felt like a dirty shovel. “Wait, wait, wait,” He gasped, putting a hand on her wrist. He scrambled his brain to come up with an excuse. “Um, you’re too drunk, this isn’t right.”</p><p>Maybe she would think he was valiant, not wanting to take advantage of her. He didn’t want to anyway, getting a quick handjob just to temporarily placate his own unattainable needs. It wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t a 19 year old white boy from South Philly. He peeled his eyes open and could only barely make out her face, but he imagined it was annoyed. </p><p>She pulled her hand out with a scoff and shoved at Mac’s chest. “Ew, don’t tell me what I am! UGH!” Mac grimaced. He was not coming out of this as the hero. “Whatever, loser,” She kicked the door open with her heel and Mac could see her flip him off in the dim light as she walked away. “Couldn’t even get hard, pathetic.”</p><p>Mac wasn’t even hurt about what she had said. She was right. </p><p>*</p><p>After he left the shed, keeping his head low in case anybody else heard he was The Guy Who Couldn’t Get It Up, Mac grabbed another beer and stayed in the kitchen. He propped himself up against a counter and let the party happen around him, loneliness creeping into his mind. This all just felt deeply torturous. Every other time he had come to Penn for the weekend, he and Dennis drank with the hockey team, or saw a movie, or just played a board game with Dee, and it felt very normal and safe. This was so foreign and unbearable that it made him cross. Maybe even cross enough to confront Dennis. </p><p>That same Dennis who had just walked into the kitchen, Jenna (or a similarly looking blonde) following obediently behind him. “Ronnnieeeee!” He shouted gleefully, the way he always does when he’s genuinely shitfaced. Mac gritted his teeth, bracing himself for Dennis’ uncoordinated slam into his own body in the form of a hug. His beer sloshed over his wrist and he felt angrier. </p><p>“Hey mman, lissen,” Dennis slurred, digging into his pants pocket to pull out his carabiner, his keys attached. He took Mac’s hand in his own and shoved the keys into it, closing both of their hands over the cool metal. Dennis leaned in closer, their hands still clasped, and brought his lips to Mac’s ear. Mac could smell the liquor on his breath and swore his own BAC rose.</p><p>“Lissen, okay? I want you to have the room tonight, okay? Bring that girl back and <em> fuck. her. good,”  </em>Dennis' voice drawled, and Mac’s dick absolutely twitched. In another dimension Mac is yelling at him to shut the fuck up, and kissing him, and telling him there is nobody else he wants to fuck now or ever again <em> you bastardly, friend neglecting, oblivious asshole </em>. </p><p>In the current timeline, however, he laughed off what Dennis said, playfully shoving his shoulder, because that’s what you do. That’s what you do when your best friend, who you may or may not be in love with (hard may), tells you to go fuck a girl that has probably told every other girl at this shitty party that you’re gay because you didn’t want to fuck her in a tool shed.<em> You laugh, and you take it on the fucking chin because that’s what you’re supposed to do, Mac. </em> </p><p>Dennis laughed too, pulling away. His hands dropped from Mac’s and Mac immediately missed them. <em> Fuck all of this. </em></p><p>“I’m going home with uh,” Dennis looked back at the blonde. “Whatsyourname again?” </p><p>The blonde, who also spotted the tube-top-glitter-chest-low-jeans-thong combo, rolled her eyes like Dennis just told her cotton candy came from the manes of unicorns, and Mac realized his brunette was not a common denominator in the sorority. “It’s Trisha, silly!” Her accent seemed Midwestern and Mac felt sorry for her. Such easy prey. </p><p>Dennis tapped a finger to one of his temples like he knew her name all along. “Yes, Trixie,” he paused to burp and Mac, who would normally find that funny, hid his disgust. ”I’m going to her place and I’ll be doing the walk a shame tomorrow, hehehe, you know what I’m talking about!” Dennis sounded like such a skeeze but Mac encouraged it, waving at poor Trisha behind him. He thought about asking God for a quick smite purely to end this painful conversation. </p><p>“Have fun, dude.” Mac replied, pocketing the keys. He tried to give off the same creepy vibe, sticking his tongue out crassly. It just made him feel tired. </p><p>Dennis winked at him again and wrapped his arm around the blonde, and they left the kitchen and Mac behind, even lonelier and angrier than he was before. </p><p>He went over to the sink, dirty dishes piled high, and found an opening to pour out the rest of his beer. At least he had the keys to Dennis’ room. He could fall asleep in his bed, like he used to do when they were kids, and not feel overwhelmed at the fact that Dennis was not really the same person he was only a few weeks ago. </p><p>Mac turned to leave the kitchen (and hopefully this God awful party), and promptly slammed face first into somebody’s chest, because of course he couldn't just leave normally. </p><p>“Fuck!” he shouted, instantly stunned. Black spots clouded his vision and he couldn’t even clearly ocularly patdown the asshole who hurt him. “What the fuck?!”</p><p>“Oh shit! Dude, I’m so sorry.” he heard a concerned male voice say as he quickly pinched his nose, anticipating the blood he knew was bound to flow. He had been in enough fist fights thus far to know a paper airplane could probably give him a bloody nose. <em> Fucking fuck fuck. </em></p><p>“Aw shit that was my fault man, let me help you dude. Aw, shit.” </p><p>Mac groaned, his knees feeling weak. He wasn’t drunk enough for this and to be honest, he didn’t really want help, although he knew he needed it. Drunk Mac could handle a nosebleed. Drunk Mac would probably weaponize his blood at this moment so he could just subdue his assailant and leave this goddamned party for once and for all. </p><p>But Mac that had been ‘accidentally following the rules for safe drinking’ couldn’t do this. Sober he would faint instantly at the sight of blood, a hold over of baggage from his childhood. Something about his dad calling him a pussy when he was 8, but he didn’t have time to think about that right now. Most every fight he had been that ended in a nosebleed had something to do with alcohol. </p><p>Mac screwed his eyes shut and hoped it wouldn’t be that bad, here at a party he didn’t want to be at, where he had no friends, in a town he didn’t live in, for a school he didn’t attend. </p><p>A wad of wet paper towels were pressed into his nose, and strong hands began to navigate him forward. Mac felt like he was drowning, like some reverse waterboarding shit. “Move! He’s bleeding, move! Let us by!” </p><p>He was outside again, still being guided by this stranger that hurt him and was trying to make it right. “I’m so sorry man, this was all my fault. You alright?” The drum of the music was muted, and distantly Mac figured they were far enough away from the party that if he fainted right now, nobody would know The Guy The Couldn’t Get It Up was also a huge pussy. </p><p>“I’m gonna p-p-pass out if I see blood, dude,” The idea made Mac start to panic. They kept walking but Mac couldn’t understand why. Why wasn’t Dennis here? “Please help me, please. I can’t...” Mac was certain he was out of his own body, and the only thing keeping him on Earth were the hands guiding him forward.</p><p>“I’m gonna help you dude, just stay with me, ok? Take some deep breaths through your mouth and stay with me.” The stranger was comforting, at least. Mac heeded his suggestion, doing his best to ignore the slow drip down his palms, and the fact that he was at the whimsy of a stranger that put him in this situation. <em> I really cannot fucking faint right now. </em>Mac felt pressure on his shoulders and let the stranger guide him to the grass, sensing him sit in front of him. He chanted the phrase again in his head, hoping this guy wasn’t also a pickpocket or something worse. </p><p>“My name is Brendon, and I’m really sorry for that,” His fingers busied themselves around the cuff of Mac’s left wrist, popping the button open and pressing into his pulse. “I wasn’t paying attention, but I’m gonna help you, ok? I promise.” Brendon kept talking evenly as he lightly tilted Mac’s head forward, slowly prying his fists from the soiled paper towels around his nose. Mac felt more blood trickle but Brendon moved swiftly, wiping and pinching, like a regular professional. His hands felt rough, like they’ve always been hard at work, but they moved with a tender care Mac hadn’t felt in a long, long time. </p><p>Apparently calloused, worked hands was a new turn on for him.</p><p>“It doesn’t look broken. Just a little sensitive,” Brendon said confidently, his pointer fingers moving up and down the bridge of Mac’s nose. That felt nice. “The bleeding stopped, so that’s good. You don’t have to look though, let me clean you up.” </p><p>Brendon spoke in a low tone as he took a clean, wet paper towel to Mac’s face, mopping up the blood around his nostrils and cheeks. Somehow in the bedlam he nicked the roll from the house, coating it all in water from the messy sink before getting Mac away from the uncaring party goers. Brendon kept talking about himself, not pressuring Mac to answer, distracting him down from his panic. </p><p>He told Mac about how he was 22, a junior at Penn from South Philly (close enough), played on the basketball team (the callouses) but was studying to become a nurse (the quick thinking, the bedside manner), “because they’re the ones that do the tough work.” </p><p>And he’s older because he was held back in the 2nd grade after breaking his legs in a bike accident. The nurses that helped him recover made him want to be a nurse himself, which Mac found unbearably cute. On the weekends he did volunteer EMS work for the extra training, and had just gotten off his shift and to the party when he ran into Mac.</p><p>“But please don’t feel bad about it. I just showed up to show my face, and even that I really didn't want to do.” </p><p>Mac could smell the sharp odor of hand sanitizer, felt its gelatinous texture as Brendon took Mac’s stained hands in his and painstakingly wiped away any sanguine traces from his palms. He told him about the dormitory he was in (the same as Dennis, coincidentally), mentioned his roommate was probably at his girlfriend’s room, so nobody was waiting up for him. </p><p>“Stay here, I’m gonna throw these away so you don’t have to see them.” </p><p>Mac sighed in relief, opening his eyes. The frat house was across the street, and he was sitting on the ground under a streetlight. There wasn’t a drop of blood left on his hands and none that he could tell on his clothes. The entire block was quiet save for the party, the sound of those speakers a dull roar from where they were. Brendon jogged back to Mac, returning from the public trash can not far away. “Hey! There he is.” </p><p>Mac finally got a look at Brendon and was gobsmacked. For all the shitty luck he’s had in his life, getting a bloody nose from a pre-med student well over 6 feet tall with a face like <em> that </em> made up for it. Brendon held his hand out and Mac took it, silently shocked at what little effort it took for Brendon to pull him to his feet. </p><p>Mac felt delicate standing next to him, Brendon’s body clearly ripped under that henley shirt and leather jacket he wore. He had just a dusting of hair over a chiseled jaw, and even in just the streetlight Mac could tell his eyes were a honey brown. He had never seen a more perfect face. </p><p>“H-Hi,” Mac’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears, too Disney princess-like, as if this situation wasn’t embarrassing enough. He coughed his voice back into normalcy. “Hey man. Thanks for all your help. I needed it.” Mac felt vulnerable under his gaze, like he wasn’t worthy enough for somebody so faultless to look at him like this. </p><p>“Oh man, it’s really no problem,” Brendon grinned, his teeth even perfect. “I’m really sorry I crashed into you like that. I feel awful,” He seemed a little embarrassed over the accident, and that somehow turned Mac on even more. “Can I walk you back to your room, at least? Also, uh...what’s your name?” he chuckled. </p><p>Mac realized at no point was he even able to speak full sentences, despite knowing almost all there was to know about Brendon. “I’m Mac, and uh, sure if you're already going home?”  </p><p>Brendon held his hand out to let Mac go first, and together they took the short, mile long walk back to campus.</p><p>*</p><p>Mac was so used to Dennis doing all the talking that he couldn’t believe how chatty he was being with Brendon, complaining about how Dennis had blown him off, how lonely he felt, how much he liked everybody at Penn but couldn’t afford to go. He kept the story with the brunette to himself, as to not give Brendon the wrong impression. </p><p>What that impression was, Mac would wait until the morning to work out.</p><p>They reached Dennis’ room on the second floor. Brendon’s room was in the next building over, a fact Mac tucked away. The hallway was eerily quiet and would probably stay that way for another hour or two, when people finally returned from their parties. </p><p>“I uh,” Brendon laughed quietly to himself. He took another beat before he spoke again. “I was wondering if I could come in. Hang out for awhile.” His sentence trailed off, biting his lip. Mac thought it was a normal enough request. It was no secret that Dennis was one of few rooms on the quad with a TV, and maybe they could watch some wrestling together before Mac finally needed sleep. </p><p>This was, until Brendon casually closed the small space between them, right into Mac’s atmosphere. Mac backed up into the door, quickly flummoxed. There was absolutely no goddamn way this Grecian god was entertaining the idea of hooking up with him. Mac balked at the thought. Sure he was bulking up a bit, but he was still Ronald McFuckingDonald. He couldn’t even bag the girl version of Brendon if he wanted to. </p><p>Maybe he was just the kind of guy that didn’t have any qualms about personal space and just really wanted to watch TV. That made sense. That was palatable enough for Mac. He was simply misreading the situation. </p><p>Mac's eyes narrowed as he tried to do a proper ocular patdown, because they really weren’t successful in the dark unless night vision goggles were equipped. And maybe he was too stunned by how gorgeous this man was that he might have forgotten to do one. He was confident this was just a straight guy, wanting to hang with another straight guy and watch TV and not do anything violent or gay to him. Obviously. </p><p>“Is that cool? I know it’s not your room and everything but I’m kind of having a good time talking.” Brendon was light and chipper, but something about his demeanor made Mac take pause. </p><p>He was dead serious.</p><p>Mac opened his mouth like a gaping fish, hoping to find the words. He didn’t even know what he wanted. “I...I mean, the room...you know,” he started vamping, expecting the answer to come to him. He was much more okay with this when he thought they were just going to watch <em> The Simpsons </em>or something.</p><p>Mac watched in slow motion as Brendon reached out and pushed some of Mac’s hair off of his face, a casualty of their collision. His fingers felt electric against Mac’s forehead and Mac’s eyes went wide at the contact. It was getting too real too fucking fast. The banter was fun and he certainly could <em> imagine </em> doing something with Brendon, like in his dreams or while jerking off, but actually <em> doing it </em> seemed unfathomable. </p><p>It was fine to just think about doing things with other men. He thought totally regular things like how fun it would be to play basketball with the really ripped guys at the park by the bar, except they’re all playing skins and it's <em> sweaty and hot </em> and you just have to <em> know </em>who to pass to. He did that all the time, potentially even too much. But that made him feel good, and God wants him to feel good, so He gave him those thoughts and that was perfectly fine and normal. </p><p>But he didn’t have a measure on what it would actually mean to get physical (and exactly how many Hail Marys it took to make it right again). Even if he did, Mac didn’t have the first clue about what gay kissing or touching even looked like. Did guys even kiss the same as women? </p><p>“Whoa, whoa, dude. I, um...I don’t know what you think but I, <em> me </em> ? Mac?” His voice was absolutely exposing him like the liar he was, though he was the slightest bit affronted by how forward Brendon had become. Did he also give off slutty vibes? Is he a gay whore? Mac tried to swallow, but he had cottonmouth. “I...I’m not like, <em> gay</em>. Or, or easy, dude. Really. I’m a hard to get straight guy.”</p><p>Brendon scoffed, looked at Mac with an unimpressed expression. “Look Mac, I don’t know much about you, but there’s a vibe between us. You have to admit that.” </p><p>Mac grew defensive. How could Brendon look like this and be self aware and insightful and selfless all at the same time? Mac put his hands up in front of his chest, keeping Brendon from moving any closer. “Seriously, dude! I’m really not gay, I don’t know what to tell you.”</p><p>Brendon raised his eyebrows at him, impressed at how strongly Mac stuck to his guns. He took a step backwards, still remaining very close for two almost strangers. “Fine! You’re not gay, that’s fine. Sexuality is complicated, I get that,” Slowly he pulled Mac’s hands down and held them in his, like he had done earlier that night. Mac felt his heart rate rise. This was wildly foreign territory.</p><p>“But I am gay, if that isn’t obvious by now. And something in my gut is telling me to kiss you,” He squeezed their hands a little bit and Mac knew he was blushing. Brendon ducked his head down to meet Mac’s eyes, which had focused on the wall behind his shoulder. Mac was 6 foot even, but Brendon had easily 5 or 6 inches on him and that was also a huge turn on, for whatever reason.</p><p>“I believe in the power of the universe, Mac. Remember how I told you about breaking my legs and missing school? When I returned the next year, I was sat next to the kid that would become my best friend. He’s my roommate now if you can believe it, fourteen years later,” Brendon smiled proudly and Mac noticed he also had dimples. <em> Stupid fucking perfect face. </em> </p><p>“And the class I would have been in the next year all got lice and then the chickenpox! My mom was pregnant with my little sister at the time, so I would have had to be quarantined from my mom while sick.” Brendon dropped Mac’s left hand so he could tilt his chin towards his face, forcing Mac to meet his eyes. They were so genuine, Mac legitimately felt a pang of...adoration? Lust? He didn’t have words for the fire in his chest. Nobody had ever made him feel this way before.  </p><p>“Aw there he is,” Brendon repeated when their eyes locked. His fingers lingered for a moment before resting on his collarbone. Mac huffed a laugh, a little won over. Even though he’s definitely not gay, he had to hand it to him. Continuity? The guy was good. </p><p>“I say all of that to say that me bumping into you wasn’t a coincidence. We were supposed to collide like this, on this night, for a reason. And I’m sorry it was such a shitty circumstance but, it’s for a reason. I don’t know what that reason is, but I just know I have to kiss you, Mac. I just know it.” </p><p>Mac felt a shiver go up his spine. He did love the way he said his name. It all felt so right to him, and that was overwhelming. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collate his thoughts.<em> What was the worst that could happen? I can kiss him and not like it and know once and for all that I’m not gay. Probably. And tomorrow is Sunday! Right to mass and confession and it’ll all be sorted. Back in God’s good graces. </em></p><p>He tried not to think about what would happen if he liked it.</p><p>His eyes opened to see that Brendon had moved closer, his body a hair's breadth away. “May I kiss you?”</p><p>There was a little bit of desperation in Brendon’s voice, like he really, truly believed in the serendipity that led them to this exact moment.</p><p>Mac felt helpless, his heart beating right out of his chest. <em> Maybe it won’t be much different from kissing a girl...lips are lips. I can do this. </em></p><p>He searched Brendon’s face for an ounce of doubt, and found only what could only be described as longing. Strangely, Mac didn’t feel pressured, like he could break this guy’s heart right now and Brendon would be perfectly fine with it, and they’d move on like it never happened. </p><p>But instead Mac nodded, bracing himself for whatever came next.</p><p>Brendon leaned down and delicately sealed his lips over Mac’s in a short, chaste kiss. It felt sweet after his encounter with the brunette, and how forceful her kiss had been. He backed away a little and Mac was thankful for the second to process the butterflies in his stomach.</p><p>Okay...it was possible he was a little gay after all. Bisexual, even. </p><p>Brendon’s hand on Mac’s collarbone cupped Mac’s face, the rugged callouses sending heat in his belly, and that was all it took for Mac to kiss him back, closing the space between them to firmly press their lips together again. It felt like it does in the movies, romantic and sweet, passionate and sexy. </p><p>So, he liked it. Maybe a little too much. </p><p>Mac let his free hand touch Brendon’s chest, feeling his firm pecs under less (but only slightly, this was uncharted territory) dangerous conditions. When this stopped being sexy he planned to ask him what he lifted to get his body like this, so muscular and strong enough to nearly break Mac’s nose. His jaw dropped and Brendon’s tongue lightly lapped its way in, and Mac counted ten abs through his henley tee. <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>A brief moment of sadness hit Mac as he realized this was his first boy kiss, and it wasn’t with Dennis. He had dreamed about their first kiss so frequently from the day they first met, that he assumed after almost 4 years of friendship one day he would magically have the courage to do it. </p><p>But Brendon was ridiculously good at kissing. He knew just the way Mac liked to be kissed, correctly assessing that Mac wanted to submit instead of lead. Even when he kissed girls he liked letting them lead, but that wasn’t conducive when he had to be the guy in the situation. <em> Does this make me the chick? Does this also make me a catcher? Too many thoughts, just kiss. </em> </p><p>Brendon’s lips moved slowly, in no rush, but Mac could tell this wasn’t a “have a great night,” kind of make out. It wasn’t even a “I’m sorry I almost broke your nose,” kind of make out.</p><p>Mac was getting what he needed tonight. And it was gonna be gay as hell and he was going to deal with that in the morning. </p><p>He pulled his face away to catch his breath and reach into his pocket for Dennis’ keys. Brendon smiled that toothy grin and Mac’s knees felt weak for the second time that night. “Was that okay? I hope I wasn’t too forward.”</p><p>Mac disregarded the question, now focused on how they could keep doing this horizontally. He was already knee deep in the gay pool, he might as well dive deeper if it was gonna keep feeling this nice. “I think I really want you to come in...and, uh, spend the night? You don’t have to or anything but I know you said you’d be alo-” </p><p>Brendon cut him off with a kiss, taking the keys from Mac’s hands. <em> Why is he so good at that? </em> </p><p>“You don’t have to convince me.”</p><p>He opened the door with Dennis’ key and squatted down a bit to Mac’s level, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him up. Mac squawked, legs instinctively wrapping around Brendon’s hips. Brendon kissed him again, walking them into the room as if Mac was lighter than a feather. The keys hit the floor and Brendon kicked the door closed behind him, chuckling into Mac’s mouth. </p><p>Mac held onto Brendon tightly, his fingers entwined in his brown hair. They stood in between the beds, kissing like this in the dark, for what Mac felt like was an eternity. He couldn’t get enough of how sexy this was, how it wasn’t anything for Brendon to hold him like this and still take his breath away. </p><p>Brendon moved them to Dennis’ roommate’s bed and Mac thanked God. He didn’t want to deal with the guilt of being on his best friend’s bed for his first gay experience. His mind was already fucked seven ways to Sunday, one less mental conflict was welcomed.</p><p>Brendon separated their lips to lay Mac on the bed, protecting his head as it hit the pillow. He was so thoughtful it made Mac crazy, like this was all a fantasy and Mac really did faint in that frat house kitchen. He climbed on top of Mac, in between Mac’s spread legs, and held himself up on muscled arms. It felt weird to be in this position, his legs and thigh muscles tight from never being stretched this way.</p><p>“Is this okay? Am I moving too fast?” Brendon asked, his voice soaked with concern. Mac’s heart ached again. “We can just go to sleep, or I can leave…or we can do more. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with.” </p><p>Mac was stunned that he had the option to choose. <em> Why was that so sexy? </em> He sat up on his elbows and looked down at their clothes. He <em> had </em> to see Brendon’s body. For workout purposes, obviously. “I..maybe we can get more comfortable? Take our shoes off, or something...” Mac replied, trying to sound casual.</p><p>Brendon smirked and leaned back on his heels. His eyes darkened as he took off his leather jacket sensually (or normally, because everything he did was unbelievably sexy?), dropping it to the ground. Mac obseved with concentrated focus as he pulled his henley off, finally seeing his body. His gorgeous, rock solid body. </p><p>“<em>Fuuuck </em>me.” Mac whispered to no one in particular, eyes glued to his form. He had only ever seen bodies like this from a distance, like at the gym or in magazines. To touch one, however...</p><p>Brendon giggled, reaching out to unbutton Mac’s shirt. “We’ll get there eventually.” They both laughed, the earlier tension dissipating. Mac was always under the impression that sexual experiences were supposed to be serious. You say what needs to be said to get the girl to come with you, pants get thrown off and the sex starts. There was no silliness, no talking. Just thrust until you get to the nut.</p><p>It was nice to chat while they got to know each other’s body. This was an intimacy that he didn’t know existed.  </p><p>Brendon’s fingers moved deliberately down his shirt, taking care to splay his hands across Mac’s chest. Mac sat up and shucked it off his arms to the ground, feeling very bare and inadequate under Brendon’s gaze. His little gains were nothing to write home about.</p><p>Brendon whistled, biting his lip again. “You are just absolutely stunning, Mac.” He didn’t allow Mac to counter his statement, kissing him again deeply. His hands fell to Mac’s waist, hiking him up into his lap so he could press their chests together, their bodies hot and a little tacky from their activity. He palmed Mac’s ass tentatively and Mac exhaled into his mouth, arms clasped around his neck, his jeans a bit tighter than they were before. </p><p>Mac could feel Brendon’s dick under him, hard and <em> huge.</em> His mind started to race again as Brendon pressed sweet kisses to his jaw and neck, still holding his body up off of the bed. He didn’t know much about gay sex, but he was very sure that a dick that big couldn’t fit inside of him. </p><p>“Brendon, I don’t--ohhhhh.” Mac sighed, Brendon sucking a light mark into his neck a momentary distraction.</p><p>“Hmm?” he hummed back, moving to nibble on the taut skin of Mac’s collarbone. </p><p>“I, uh...I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I feel like this is escalating and I know that’s not a banana in your pocket and I get it because I’m definitely, like <em>hard</em>, too you know but I only just discovered fingers in the ass like a year ago and I-”</p><p>“Mac! Please! Can you calm down?” Brendon’s voice was firm but not chastising. Mac was thankful for it, because he was certain he was going to say something mildly offensive to the actual gay person in the room and this was too good to ruin. </p><p>Brendon kissed Mac again, slowly, smoothly, bringing the tempo down to a comfortable halt. “Didn’t you think I’d figure out this was probably your first same sex encounter when you told me you weren’t gay?” He asked, no judgment in his voice. Mac pondered on it, feeling a little foolish but not humiliated. Apparently there were people in this world that could correct you when you’re wrong without making you feel stupid. He thought about that for the next time Dennis made him out to be an imbecile. </p><p>Mac snorted, conceding. “Ok, you got me there,” He adjusted his hips in Brendon’s lap, and Brendon sharply blew air from his nose, the contact between his dick and Mac’s ass intensifying. “Sorry! I’m just having a really good time and I want to make sure you can, too.” Mac was a little impressed with himself for the admission, albeit unnecessary.</p><p>Brendon smiled as he kissed Mac again, holding him close. He rose up from his knees and got off the bed, and Mac had half a mind to think he was purely showing off at this point. He dropped Mac on the edge of the bed and broke their kiss, a mischievous look in his eye. Mac chased his lips, licking his way into his mouth again, addicted to his kiss. Brendon held Mac’s head in his hands and backed away with a hum, his flawless teeth cracking into that classic smirk.</p><p>“This is the best night I’ve had in so long, you do not need to worry about me having a good time,” he purred, sinking to his knees on the rug in front of Mac. Mac’s eyes widened, putting together what Brendon had in mind. A quick snap of the fingers and Mac’s jeans were undone, a brief respite from the building pressure. His fingers hooked on to the waistband and pulled, just enough for the V of Mac’s crotch could be exposed, a spot still too soft for Mac’s liking. Brendon lowered his head to one side of the crease, where leg meets torso, and spoke into the skin there.</p><p>“So how about you watch me lecture you on blow jobs, and when you’re ready, I can quiz you on all that you’ve learned?”</p><p>A touch of dizziness clouded Mac’s mind from having held his breath as he watched along silently, Brendon laying open mouth kisses across his hot flesh. He probably looked like a fucking goldfish, his mouth gaping for the right words to say. </p><p>“Yes, please.” Mac whined, leaning back to rest on his hands. </p><p>Brendon grinned, the sharp wetness of his teeth tickling Mac’s thigh. In one smooth movement he pulled Mac’s jeans down to his knees, his body now completely on display. His dick sprung from its constraints and lay, painfully hard and protruding, just barely touching his abs. </p><p>Brendon dragged his fingers down Mac’s inner thighs, a feather light touch. Mac sucked in air, trying his hardest to have this not end too soon. He looked down at the exact moment Brendon took his dick in his mouth, his hazel eyes locked with Mac’s and Mac was beyond positive, no questions asked, very, very, gay. </p><p>“Holy shit, dude,” he gasped, transfixed by Brendon's beautiful mouth around the head of his dick. He moved agonizingly slow, swallowing Mac down until his lips nestled amongst his pubes. Brendon eased up enough to start sucking, one hand tightly on the base and the other rolling his balls in his palm. “That is fucking amazing.”</p><p>Brendon hummed, sucking tighter and more enthusiastically. His slender tongue swirled around the head and Mac cried out, bucking his hips. Mac fit his fingers into Brendon’s gorgeous hair, balancing shakily on his right arm, his abs twitching as he tumbled towards his release far too soon. “B...Brendon, hey, oh <em> God, </em>” Mac groaned as Brendon pressed his thumb into his perineum. “Just let up a little, please.”</p><p>Brendon came off of Mac with a soft pop, confusion on his face. “Am I hurting you?”</p><p>“No! No I’m sorry, no it’s incredible,” Mac blurted, out of breath. “I’m really close to coming and I’m not ready for it to be done yet.”</p><p>Brendon giggled, placing a kiss to the side of his dick. His hand moved idly, unhurried, as he mouthed at the vein that ran tightly under his skin. Mac didn't know it could feel this fantastic. </p><p>“I told you, I’m having a good time. Let me make you feel good, okay? You just worry about enjoying it.” Brendon looked up at him again, his eyes so sweet and naughty all at once. </p><p>Mac nodded, his heart squarely in his throat. Brendon placed a wet kiss to his slit and Mac’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. <em> How was he so fucking incredible at sucking dick? </em></p><p>***</p><p>“Stupid bitch, stupid, stupid bitch.” Dennis muttered to himself, stumbling back to his dorm room. Who gave a shit if he drank too much and couldn’t get hard? He was in a good enough state to at least finger her (Tanya? Tara?) and wasn’t that enough? </p><p>Fuck her and her demands. Dennis Reynolds was in full control of his body and his thoughts and whatever she thought of Dennis didn’t matter. </p><p>Dennis approached the door of his building and patted his pockets down for his keys, remembering that he gave them to Mac hours ago. “Fuck!” He hissed, looking around for some help. He didn’t know where Dee had ended up for the night and he didn’t feel like walking all the way to the campus center to have somewhere to sleep.</p><p>The sound of laughter startled Dennis from his frustrating thoughts. A pair of roommates from the floor below him were a few yards away, chattering loudly about the evening's happenings. Dennis had seen them in the dining hall and at building meetings but he couldn’t remember their names, but knew they definitely knew his. He regretted asking his parents for that TV daily. Dennis settled for a friendly wave lest he fuck around and get himself really locked out. </p><p>“Hey, Dennis!” The taller one called, holding his hand out for a hand shake. “Had fun at the rager on Clairmont?”</p><p>Dennis plastered on a smile and shook back. He was in no mood for small talk but if these yuppie fucks could get him into the building, he would do what he had to do. “What’s up guys? It was a crazy party, man.”</p><p>The shorter one grabbed his keys from his pocket and displayed them to Dennis. His name was something weird, maybe Brantley? “Got locked out, pal?” </p><p>Dennis shrugged, as if that wasn’t obvious. “Yeah, man you know, I gave my buddy my keys so he could get laid,” <em> Please open the fucking door. </em>“Was going to crash at this girl’s house but she turned out to be a huge bitch. Had to get the hell out of there, you know what I mean?”</p><p>The pair nodded in agreement like two matching bobbleheaded morons. “I feel you bro,” Brantley/Bentley/Buckley? replied, sticking his key in the slot and twisting. “I think we saw him walking back to the building with that gay guy in the next building over, right Trent?”</p><p><em> Trent. What a stupid fucking name. </em>“Oh yeah? That’s cool. He’s a pretty nice guy,” Dennis did not know and did not exactly care about what they were insinuating. The smaller douche held the door open for Dennis and Trent and Dennis jogged in, putting some space between them. “Hey guys, thanks for letting me in, but I’m gonna get some shut eye. You know how it is!”</p><p>Trent and whatshisname said their goodbyes but Dennis was half way down the hallway, making his way to the stairs. He plotted a way to get Mac an illegal copy of his keys so this didn’t have to happen again.</p><p>Dennis took the steps two at a time to get to his empty floor. He swore the lights here were brighter than the rest of the building, if his premature hangover had anything to say about it. He closed his eyes and walked the rest of the way, relying on his muscle memory to lead him to the door. <em> Hopefully Mac is already asleep. </em></p><p>“<em>Ughhhhh yes</em>.” Dennis heard a moan coming from the direction of his room. His neighbor across the hall was big into porn and took advantage of late weekend nights (and having a single room) to watch it loudly. Of course Dennis wouldn’t be able to sleep in peace. </p><p>He approached his door, which was cracked open the slightest bit. Dennis’ lock often jammed open. If you didn’t jimmy the handle, the door would never truly close, because the lock wouldn’t retract. He had been bugging the front office for weeks to fix it.</p><p>Dennis pushed the door open and the smell of sex hit his nose before the sight of Mac did. Mac, his Mac, who was flushed red, completely naked and getting his dick sucked by some guy.</p><p>His jaw dropped in a way he was sure it would never be attached again. Dennis’ eyes connected with Mac’s, his face a picture of bliss and something Dennis couldn’t quite decipher. He looked sinister and satisfied, like Mac was getting off quicker knowing Dennis was watching. </p><p>Dennis couldn’t look away, heart in his stomach and dick throbbing in his pants.</p><p>Mac groaned obscenely at his new audience, gripping the guy’s hair tight as his head lolled backwards, hips stuttering as Dennis watched him come down this stranger’s throat. The stranger took it all, working Mac through his orgasm until he was a whimpering, trembling mess.</p><p>Dennis turned on his heel and ran straight out the doorway, back down the hallway he came from. He could sleep in the lounge tonight.</p><p>** </p><p>Mac’s chest heaved from breathlessness, trying to refocus his vision to watch Brendon swallow every drop of come Mac had left. “Oh my <em> God</em>, Brendon.” he panted, letting go of Brendon’s hair to wipe the back of his hand across his forehead. </p><p>Mac looked up at the doorway, beyond pleased with himself. There was no anger, no regret, no sadness, no confusion. He came down the throat of fucking <em> Zeus </em>and Dennis watched him, paralyzed, in disbelief that his sidekick was getting blown and it wasn’t by some mean sorority girl like Dennis had wanted for him. </p><p>That would teach Dennis to ever fucking ditch him again. Or to call him Ronnie in public. Next time Mac promised he would get a full show if he planned on not appreciating him in the future. </p><p>Brendon turned to look too, licking an errant stripe of jizz from the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger. “I guess I didn’t close the door all the way, huh? I hope nobody got a show.”</p><p>Mac laughed a little too enthusiastically, rubbing a sobering hand over his face as he took stock of the night he had. “I hope not either,” Mac slid onto the floor next to Brendon, leaning in close to say against his swollen lips:</p><p>“Go close it. I’m ready to take that quiz now.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you in advance for the comments! Again, apologies if this has triggered you. I would love to fill in any gaps that you would have missed to the best of my ability if you'd like! I hope to see you guys next week with chapter 3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I'm Gonna Lose My Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mac and Brendon celebrate 6 months together. Elsewhere, Dennis self destructs.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello friends it's your favorite neighborhood liar who promised to be quicker about this update! A lot has been going on in my world and I get compulsive about editing my chapters down and read them to absolute death until I find them passable. Regardless, I'm finishing this come hell or high water, because I made an outline so that makes it real. </p><p>I also did so much research on the area around Penn and about Catholicism. Jewish girl from NY only producing accurate fics!!</p><p>I've been imagining Brendon as a Robbie Amell type. Do with that what you will. #BottomMacRights</p><p>Sex in this chapter. Enjoy~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t happen the third time, and that’s really for the best.</p><p>The morning after the party, after Mac backflipped out of the proverbial closet (allegedly) and into Brendon’s arms (literally), he woke up early looking to push Brendon out. </p><p>Despite being the blueprint for the perfect man, he did fuck Mac (read: did a lot of mouth and hand stuff throughout the night and into the morning, which basically was fucking) right after meeting him, and thus was technically a one night stand. He had to be treated as such, ‘cause it was repentin’ time. </p><p>Most people, adults and younger people alike, found it weird that Mac at age 19 enjoyed going to church every Sunday. And even though he was still, technically, a one night stand, Mac didn’t want Brendon to think he was some self hating altar boy chasing a shameful nut. Flip flopping from being “definitely straight,” to tentatively licking and suckling Brendon’s dick, holding his hips tightly so he could swallow his come because Mac McDonald was not a quitter nor a spitter…</p><p>Bringing up church just seemed inappropriate.</p><p>There was a huge Cathedral on the other side of the river that Pope John Paul II had prayed at, so it was a real legit place for mass. He absolutely scored extra points with The Man Upstairs when he took the eucharist there, cause it was definitely super blessed. Mac happily went alone and diligently prayed for his friend’s poor souls. They were heathens that hated taking advantage of the holy history just miles from their college. Though Dee would probably burn upon entry, and that building was too old and too ornate to survive a fire. </p><p>Mac had prepared to feed Brendon some bullshit lie so he would leave, even though laying on his chest, wrapped in his massive arms felt too good to be sinful. It was better to just fib and maybe hope that Brendon would be down to hang out for lunch...or for more scandalous activity. He could probably lie like this for a few weeks before Brendon inevitably got bored with him and his hang ups on his sexuality.</p><p>That was, until Brendon sheepishly asked him, fingers twisted in Mac’s hair, if he wanted to attend the LGBTQ Mass on campus. Apparently he had been asking his roommate to go with him for months, but he wasn’t a believer anymore, and Brendon was tired of going alone. </p><p>Besotted just wasn’t a good enough word. Mac fell hard and fast in love, right then in the arms of this stranger who almost broke his nose not even 8 hours earlier. </p><p>***</p><p>Six months and about 24 gay as hell masses later, Brendon and Mac had hit their relationship stride. </p><p>After that first service, Mac blurted out how much he had enjoyed the night prior, how safe he felt to be at a chapel with queer people his own age, listening to a priest that wasn't a million years old. Brendon made him feel special and important and worthy. He brought him to a church that didn’t make gayness seem unforgivable, and kept his hand on his lower back when they stood to sing, and kissed his cheek so tenderly during the sign of peace that Mac’s heart just about burst out of his chest.</p><p>They made it official one week later.</p><p>Mac exclusively came to Penn every Friday night after that first one, completely abandoning his weekend shifts at the bar to work doubles during the week. </p><p>But it wasn’t <em> just </em> for Brendon. He hated those people who abandoned their buddies for a hot (and Brendon was fucking <em> perfect</em>) piece of ass. Mac was loyal to his friends before anything else, because only assholes ditch their friends. </p><p>He dutifully spent Friday nights and Saturday afternoons with Dennis, Dee and sometimes Charlie alone, doing their normal friendship things, going to parties and seeing movies. Brendon worked overnight, taking the day to rest and sending sweet texts between naps. Saturday evening was for hot dates and fooling around, going to gay bars and dancing, holding hands and kissing. And Sunday was for the gym, church and brunch in that order. And then <em> a lot </em> more fooling around. </p><p>Mac had been doing a decent job of keeping himself equally tethered to these opposite sides of his life so they never mixed. Brendon was pure and kind in that way that made people naturally want to be good. And Mac didn’t have the type of friends that wanted to be good people. </p><p>After only 6 months, Mac hadn’t found a conceivable method of mixing holy water and sewage, without losing all that was perfect and pristine. </p><p>It was work, sure, but not much had really changed.</p><p>Except Dennis. </p><p>Without much warning, his moods would shift from palatable to edgy, almost always nearing the expiration hour of Mac’s time with him. Mac never spoke Brendon’s name out of fear of Dennis becoming combative, immediately on the offense like a predatory animal. Brendon caused Mac to start living his most authentic life, but to Dennis he was only <em> persona non grata</em>, <em> fuck you, you don’t belong here</em>. </p><p>If Mac thought too hard about it, he’d have to process what happened 6 months earlier: the night where he came off of the shock in Dennis’ eyes, the <em> tightwet </em> heat of Brendon’s mouth. The horror and lust and jealousy and anger on Dennis’ face as he shot white hot down Brendon’s throat. </p><p>He hadn’t processed any of that. And there was no need to, really. </p><p>Brendon was enough. Brendon would always be enough. </p><hr/><p>Dennis sat on Dee’s bed, flipping through one of her chick magazines as she did her hair at her desk. It was a Saturday night, and Dennis didn’t have the heart to watch Mac leave with Brendon, who was giddy and anxious to celebrate their 6 month anniversary. Just the thought of them cozied up on the same side of a rose petaled booth like two buffoons made Dennis’ stomach sour. He left early for Dee’s room, giving Mac a half hearted goodbye as he let the door slam behind him. </p><p>Dennis Reynolds didn’t need that sappy bullshit. He needed a handle of vodka and a mouth on his dick and some kind of device to wipe away the past 4 years worth of feelings he had built up for Mac. <em> Who the fuck even celebrates a 6 month anniversary? </em> </p><p>Dee’s room was one floor up, three doors down from Dennis’. It wasn’t by design that they lived so close, and truthfully Dennis wanted her to live farther away just so it was an effort for them to see one another. Maybe then they might not be so goddamn codependent. </p><p>It was a meticulously clean space, despite Dee notably being the filthier twin. She had somehow manipulated her roommate, an naive exchange student from Belgium, to clean their room, do her laundry and most all of her homework. She was a little crunchy granola, and was absolutely treating Dee with essential oils to keep her from being a raging bitch. Win-win-win, because Dennis really liked the smell of chamomile and having a sister that wasn’t <em> constantly </em> on the brink of committing murder.</p><p>“Where are we going tonight?” Dennis mumbled, not entirely caring but wanting to set his expectations. Jennifer Anniston’s got highlights, which was apparently very controversial.</p><p>“The Blarney Stone. You have your fake id memorized right?” Dee replied from her desk, where she was fussing with her hair. Her tongue stuck out just slightly in concentration as she stared in the propped up hand mirror, twisting a blonde strand of hair up into a curling iron. “You have to have it memorized because it’s almost identical to mine.”</p><p>“I still don’t know why you made our fake ids even look like twins. We don’t look that much alike, Dee.” Dennis tossed the magazine onto her pillow, overwhelmingly bored with the content. <em>Who gives a shit about celebrity hair?</em></p><p>At nearly 20, Dee and Dennis really didn’t look much like twins. Related, sure, but not twins. They were both skinny as sin, 5’10” and wiry, with the same cold blue eyes. Similar enough to be siblings, cousins maybe. But from the ages of 5 to 8 they looked like identical towheaded little boys, always matching in meticulously pressed outfits. Barbara had forced Lupita to give Dee the same bowl cut she gave Dennis, in the interest of humbling young DeAndra before she could properly defend herself. Most of the children at school only knew Dee was a girl if they asked. Dennis got into a lot of fights from this, because fuck anybody that would dare assume he wasn't the prodigal and sole Reynolds son. And it wasn't nice to misgender his sister, either. </p><p>Dennis’ hair may have darkened from the honey blonde of their youth, but there was no mistaking their resemblance, albeit minute. No matter how hard he tried to run from it. They both would squint their eyes in anger, fold their lips into their mouths to think hard on something. </p><p>It was crass enough that Dee had always held space in his life, smushing him with her avian limbs in the womb. It was worse that he couldn’t seem to ever extricate himself from her for longer than 8 hours, nor did he really want to.</p><p>And not like he would ever tell her this, but on a night like tonight, he was thankful to have someone who knew the real him. Someone who didn’t need to ask questions about the storm inside him because they had one within them, too.  </p><p>Collectively, their baggage would weigh down a 747.  </p><p>Dee rolled her eyes, jumping a little as she burnt her finger. “<em>We don’t look that much alike</em>,” She repeated in a deeply mocking tone. “Do you not remember that weird older couple from a few months ago that nearly KIDNAPPED us because they were into how much alike we looked? Something about being…” Dee trailed off, trying to remember while simultaneously undoing the iron, a sharp, crisp curl springing forth. </p><p>“Ugh, two halves of the same sex toy,” Dennis gagged, a shiver going down his body. Dee grimaced at recalling the memory. “Fine, point taken. Other people think we look like twins.”</p><p>“Thank you! Now would you please practice your fake id?” Dee fluffed up her now curled hair, which slightly resembled feathers. ”That kid from my acting class is going to be there and I am not missing a chance to get free drinks which means YOU will also miss out on free drinks.”</p><p>Dennis huffed in mock annoyance, pulling out his wallet to study the plastic card with his face on it. Like he had done most of their lives, Dennis didn’t do it for Dee, but solely for himself. If she benefited from his selfishness, like she had done most of their lives, then so be it. </p><p>He couldn’t spend tonight alone.</p><hr/><p>Mac held Brendon’s hand comfortably as he stared out the window of the cab, University City passing by in a blur. He wasn’t sure if the heat in his belly was from the alcohol they had at dinner, or if because tonight he was going to finally ask Brendon to fuck him for the first time. Either way he was buzzing, unable to look at Brendon anymore without flushing bright red. </p><p>Dinner was at a fancy restaurant Mac had never heard of before. He had been to every shithole dive bar and burger joint in a 5 mile radius and this place was nowhere near the average Penn student’s radar. The glass façade stretched high, pristine and seemingly impractical for a sports obsessed city that rioted professionally. Written in lights in an illegible script was the restaurant's name, something too French for Mac to pronounce even if he could read it. </p><p>He was out of place here, amongst the upper crust of society. Mac would have been happy with going to the Blarney Stone for a few drinks, getting drunk pizza on the way home and snuggling and talking until the sun came up. He didn’t protest, however, when Brendon giddily fed him the details of the evening over the phone a few weeks prior. And now it was way too late to undo all Brendon had planned just because he over-thought his way out of deserving to be there. </p><p>Brendon treated Mac to a new suit and dress shoes, a gift and necessity for the implied dress code of the restaurant, so Mac wasn’t particularly physically comfortable either. The clothes weren’t lived in, had no memories or ghosts of a certain cologne that Mac still chased when he needed nostalgia. </p><p>Distantly Mac remembered the night they met, how he didn’t fit in wearing those clothes either, and yet still they found one another. </p><p>That was reassuring, at least. </p><p>They were placed at a sweethearts table, tucked away from nosy eyes for privacy. Mac squeezed himself in Brendon’s space just for something familiar to cling to. Candles and roses already lit and arraigned, they enjoyed 4 courses of a meal Mac couldn’t even imagine paying for. Their waiter did not question Mac for his ID, pouring him glass after glass of expensive French champagne that made him giggle into Brendon’s neck. </p><p>Brendon took advantage of the extra privacy, sneaking booze soaked kisses and under-the-table gropes between courses. The waiter would swoop their plates away and Brendon would fill Mac’s space, lingering flavor still on his tongue as he kissed Mac, a searing hot palm under his sport coat resting on the thin, expensive cloth covering Mac’s lower back. </p><p>“You taste <em> delicious</em>.” Brendon breathed into Mac’s mouth with a smile. A snort hiccuped from Mac left them in hysterics, but nothing could ruin a moment between them. Brendon swallowed his laughter, passing Mac what felt like the purest of love right back. </p><p><em> Love. </em> The word often came up between them, but never in <em> that way. </em>That intimate, sexy kind of way. Like most things, Brendon didn’t compel Mac to say it. Instead he would show up at the bar in the ambulance if they were in the neighborhood without a call, just to give Mac a hug and kiss. He would send takeout to Mac’s apartment on his long days so he wouldn’t go to bed hungry out of exhaustion. He’d murmur over the phone, “Your sleepy voice is my favorite sound,” when Mac would pick up in the wee hours of the morning just so Brendon could say goodnight after his shift. </p><p>Brendon had been saying “I love you,” to Mac in his own way since the night they met. He didn’t need to say it out loud...but it would be nice, on tonight of all nights. </p><p>Mac watched Brendon often with tender eyes, a tummy rumbling sensation that made his pulse quicken if he thought about it for too long. He was sure he knew what love was. He loved Charlie and Dennis, and even Dee, though he’d never tell her. </p><p>Love was taking Charlie to the tracks and throwing rocks at trains because it’s Father’s Day and they don’t have the right words to say to each other so they stand closer and throw harder and hug tighter when the last train goes by. </p><p>Love was letting Dee tweeze his eyebrows because Tim stopped calling after he took her virginity and Mac couldn’t stand the far away broken look in her eyes anymore. </p><p>Love was meeting Dennis where he was, every day for 4 years, on the off chance he would look at Mac and smile like there was nothing else more important in the world at that moment. He was certain he would die still waiting for that smile to come, and still loving Dennis would be worth it.</p><p>He loved his people. They had always been his, even if they were hard to love at times. They were his and that was enough. </p><p>Loving Brendon confronted Mac. It beat down the walls of his deepest insecurities and catalogued them, held them up to the light against Brendon’s qualities until they melded away. This love found himself willing to give up everything, drinking, porn, sugar, just to see Brendon sitting on his couch when he came home from work every day. This kind of love was uncertain and frightening and still Mac wanted to chase it until it swallowed him whole. </p><p>Three courses were tucked away before double chocolate cake for dessert, Mac’s favorite made specifically for the evening. The waiter brought a thick slice to the table, the plate decorated with a fruit reduction and berries, and a singular lit candle poking from the highest peak.</p><p>“I thought we could make a wish on it together for what we want for our relationship.” Brendon murmured close to Mac’s ear, his hand squeezing Mac’s tenderly under the tablecloth. Mac couldn’t believe Brendon was his. </p><p>Closing their eyes, Mac thought hard about what he wanted for them both. Forever seemed too final for 19, but it did seem nice. Forever with a guy that took no shortcuts to please him, who graciously held space for his feelings and wants and needs. Forever seemed attainable. </p><p><em> I wish that we will never stop making each other happy. </em>That seemed like a good thing to want. </p><p>Brendon counted down from 3 and Mac repeated the wish in his head as they blew the candle out together, heads touching at the temple, cheek aching smiles on their faces. </p><p>There was no point in the waiter bringing two forks as they took turns feeding the other from the same one. Mac always thought this cheesy romcom shit was for the birds, but this moment was so right, so perfect that he couldn’t help but get wrapped up in the thick of it all. He wanted to shout to the restaurant how in love he was before a dance mob of the wait staff broke out for a musical number. </p><p>Brendon let Mac have the last bite, watching his mouth closely as he licked the fork clean. He leaned in, chasing Mac’s lips, lapping away the sugar until Mac was breathless and a little hard. </p><p>It was pretty implied what they would be getting up to back at Mac’s apartment. And he was ready to leave as soon as humanly possible. </p><p>The check was already taken care of, a gift from Brendon’s parents, so Mac all but dragged Brendon to the street to wave down a cab when they finished eating. He had enough wits about him to not tear into Brendon the second the door closed, but the thought crossed his mind when Brendon placed a heavy hand on his upper thigh. </p><p>The cab barely stopped before Mac was out the door, keys in hand, leaving Brendon to fumble cash around for the driver. </p><p>His hands shook as he opened the vestibule door, Brendon’s arms instantly around his waist. “Let’s get upstairs, hmm?” He whispered sexily in Mac’s ear. Mac absolutely quaked in anticipation. </p><p>They held hands, Mac mostly pulling as they scaled the steps to the second floor of the building. He peaked over his shoulder more than once just to see Brendon admire him with lust and adoration. </p><p>Brendon stopped them in the hallway, creeping his fingers into the waistband of Mac’s pants to untuck his shirt and fondle the sweaty inch of skin there. He remembered to duck his head down to seal his lips to Mac’s, their height difference often leaving his boyfriend with a cramp in one or both feet from tippy toeing into kisses. </p><p>Wrapping his arms around Brendon’s neck always felt so intimate, so special. Mac liked being smaller, feeling protected. Even now with Brendon pressing him flush against the hallway wall, there wasn’t an inch of Mac that he didn’t cover. </p><p>“Mmm, Bren,” Mac mumbled, tilting up away from the kiss. “My apartment is right there.” </p><p>Brendon smirked, mouthing lightly at Mac’s chin as he spoke. “You mean I can’t just suck you off right here, in the middle of this public space despite having access to a closed door 20 feet away?”</p><p>Mac shoved him off playfully as his dick twinged excitedly. Brendon had a perfect mouth. “Cmon, you horny old man.” He joked, poking at their age difference. Mac tugged on Brendon’s arm towards his apartment. </p><p>Brendon was a beat behind him, running into his back as Mac stopped cold in his tracks. </p><p>Dennis laid on the ground, seemingly unconscious, propped up against Mac’s apartment door. His hair was soaked in what smelled like booze, there was vomit on his jeans and he was missing his right shoe. </p><p>“Oh goddammit! Dennis?!” Mac cried, half concerned, half exasperated, rushing to his side. He looked to Brendon for help but he was already on the other side, gently rubbing Dennis’ face and grabbing his wrist for his pulse. </p><p>
  <em> Of all fucking nights, this happens tonight?!  </em>
</p><p>“Hey Dennis? Buddy? Talk to me, man. Let me see those eyes,” Brendon had his EMT voice on, calm and even, studied and focused. He glanced briefly at his watch. “Pulse is strong and normal. Dennis!” Brendon raised his voice, shaking Dennis’ shoulder with more intention. “Let’s see those eyes, pal.”</p><p>Dennis groaned, shrinking away from Brendon’s touch with a flailing arm. “Fuck!” He cursed, tentatively opening one eye to adjust to the overhead light. “Mac? Oh you’re home, whassup pal!?” Dennis changed on a dime, grinning dopily, words thicker than molasses. </p><p>“Dude list-ten, okay, I got kicked outta the Shmarney Cone cause that bitch bartender cut me off ‘n I lost my keys so I came here cause I know you have my copy ’n Dee’s suuuuch a bitch dude, I got the worst fuckin’ twin sister I shoulda ate her in the womb…” Mac and Brendan shared a glance over Dennis’ head as he continued to mumble and groan about his night. A slow burn of anger crept into Mac’s veins. Dennis was ruining their special evening. </p><p>“Hey, Dennis? Why don’t we get you inside and get you cleaned up, huh?” Brendon asked, not waiting for a reply before lifting Dennis’ arm up around his shoulders. He didn’t seem to mind Dennis cramping their plans, and Mac tried to shake off his annoyance in return. If he didn’t care, then Mac thought he shouldn’t either. </p><p>They both jostled Dennis to his feet, his legs generally uncooperative and clumsy. Dennis continued to speak aloud to no one, only pausing to laugh at the hands on his ribs keeping him standing. </p><p>“Let’s get him into Charlie’s room,” Mac directed, unlocking the door and slapping Dennis’ thigh to get him moving. He was still a little peeved, and probably hit him a little harder than necessary. “He can sleep there for the night, Charlie won’t mind.” </p><p>“What won’t I mind?” Charlie appeared behind them, dirty and disheveled from work, Chinese takeout in hand. He saw the state of Dennis before any of them could reply. “Oh goddammit no, NO I’m not babysitting him tonight, I had a crappy day and I just want to eat and go to bed.”</p><p>Charlie closed the door behind him and moved past their joined bodies, hands up in surrender. “I had to bash a bunch of fucking rats today, and nobody understands how exhausting that is and Dennis always needs to spoon when he shares the bed and I’m not waking up with his dick in my back a-GAIN!” He waved his arms, frantic as he kicked his shoes off haphazardly. “I’m not doing it, Mac!”</p><p>Mac panicked, shifting Dennis’ weight off his body and on to Brendon. His big night was slipping through his fingers. “Just get him to the couch?” He asked, eyes offering the promise to save the evening. Brendon sighed, dragging Dennis’ still giggling limbs towards the center of the room. </p><p>Mac jogged into Charlie’s room, fully prepared to beg. Charlie was somehow already comfortable in bed, maybe out of spite, focused on his boxy TV as he chomped on an egg roll. A rerun of ECW that Mac knew for a fact they had watched already played on the screen. “I’m not doing it, Mac!” Charlie screeched again, not looking away.</p><p>Mac actually whimpered. “Charlie, please. I’ll get on my knees, please dude,” he clasped his hands in prayer and briefly thought about crying to drive his point home. He lowered his voice in the event Brendon could hear. </p><p>“I wanted to go all the way with Brendon tonight for our anniversary dude, you know how important that is to me.” Mac felt like he was on the edge of a temper tantrum with how he whined. There was no use in preserving his dignity now. “You have to help me out here man!” Charlie raised his eyebrows in thought, possibly agreement, still watching the TV. </p><p>“I…I’ll split Charlie work with you! I’ll do half the rest of the week if you <em> please </em> just promise to watch after Dennis tonight. You know Brendon will be convinced he’s gonna choke on his own vomit and die if nobody stays with him!” The desperation left Mac sweaty, which wasn’t even a little bit sexy right before losing your boy virginity. Or whatever would be happening once Brendon was securely behind Mac’s locked bedroom door. </p><p>“Make it two weeks and I’ll do it.” Charlie finally cocked his head towards Mac, poker face strong. </p><p>“Ten days.” Mac imagined himself mopping unidentifiable puddles of goop for 10 days and decided Brendon was still worth it. </p><p>Charlie stared at him for a beat longer than necessary before getting up in a huff. “Deal. But you better not screw with me Mac, I have a shit ton of sick days lined up and I’ll fucking take ’em all if you screw with me. And then the Charlie work will be Mac work for 10 days. Capiche?”</p><p>Mac rushed him into a tight, unreciprocated hug, pressing a firm kiss to Charlie’s dirty forehead. “Thank you so much, seriously dude, you are saving me here.”</p><p>“Yeah whatever dude, just don’t be too fucking loud. I don’t need to know what you sound like with a dick in your ass.” Charlie grimaced, shivering dramatically. He pushed past Mac for the living room before Mac could inquire about how he was so certain it would be him getting fucked, and not the other way around. </p><p>Brendon had set up a goddamn triage center in their living room in under 5 minutes. Dennis laid on his side, somehow fast asleep, propped up with couch pillows to keep him from laying on his back. The small garbage can from Mac’s bathroom was placed strategically on the floor near his mouth. His lone shoe and shirt were off, and a damp tea towel was folded across his eyes. Spread across the coffee table was a glass of water, half a yellow Gatorade, a bottle of aspirin and a banana. The ceiling fan whipped swiftly over their heads in a low hum. </p><p>“I think he’s alright for now, he tried to make himself throw up for some reason but nothing came out, so he should be empty, ideally,” Brendon’s methodical EMT voice faded as he spoke to Charlie, watching Dennis with a mild level of concern. “You’re gonna be up for a while, Charlie?”</p><p>“Yeah, I guess. I’ll make sure he doesn’t die.”</p><p>Mac clapped his hands. “Well that settles that, thank you again, Charlie,” Mac pulled on Brendon’s bicep, forcibly leading him towards his bedroom. Brendon made a brief noise of protest that Mac silenced with a pinch. “<em>Nopenoneofthat </em> oookay! We’re gonna go lay down. G’night Charlie!”</p><p>Charlie grumbled something vulgar back that Mac pretended to not hear as he closed his door and swiftly locked it, lest Charlie changed his mind. </p><p>“Thank God that’s over with,” Mac exhaled, tension releasing from his shoulders. He fumbled in the jacket pockets for the lighter he carried with him all night. “Don’t move! I need to set the mood.”</p><p>“Set the mood? Sweetheart, I thought you wanted to lay down.” </p><p>Mac scoffed, flicking the lighter towards the wick of a tea light on his dresser, then quickly to another when the first catches flame. For as self aware as he was Brendon could be oblivious at times. But Mac liked it though. He seemed more human and less fallen angel that way. </p><p>“Of course I want to lay down,” the handful of tea lights in their glass holders filled the room with a warm glow. Lighter abandoned, Mac stepped into Brendon’s space, standing on his toes to touch their noses together. “But it’s our six monthaversary, Bren! I want to lay down, and have you lay on top of me, and maybe we’re naked…and maybe you’re inside of me…”</p><p>Brendon sucked in a deep breath, leaning forward to let Mac rest his calves. “Is that right?”</p><p>“Mmhmm. Tonight’s the night, Big Boy.”</p><p>Brendon laughed at the nickname. “Are you sure though, sweetheart?” He questioned, kissing Mac just for the sake of closeness. </p><p>Mac pulled him closer and thanked God he was so much shorter. “I am, I promise. You know I’ve been...<em> practicing</em>.”</p><p>The lights don’t need to be on for the other to know he’s blushing. At least once a week, their evening phone calls turned from casual conversation to low sexy voices and heavy breathing. Mac hardened at the memory of their last call, moaning sluttily over the speaker, three fingers inside of himself and just <em> leaking</em>. All the while Brendon was still at work, snuck away into a supply closet at the local hospital just so he could listen, palm pressed hard over the zipper of his slacks. </p><p>“Oh, I know you have. But fingers and a dick...I’m not exactly small, sweetheart.” It wasn’t a brag. Brendon was packing <em> heat </em>. Mac’s jaw, that tended to ache as he tried to sing in church on Sunday mornings, knew this all too well. </p><p>Mac sighed deeply and put his palm over Brendon’s heart. “No judgment?” </p><p>Brendon immediately did the same, his large hand covering most of Mac’s left pec. ‘No judgment’ meant they had to genuinely hear the other person while they told an uncomfortable truth. Brendon’s parents were therapists, Mac later discovered, which explained a lot. </p><p>“No judgment.” Brendon repeated dutifully. </p><p>“I <em> may </em> have bought a cucumber and some big condoms.”</p><p>“<em>Oh.</em>” Brendon looked equal parts mortified and on the verge of hysterics. Mac could barely maintain his look of warning. It was a <em> little </em> funny.</p><p>“The dildos at the sex shop were massive! They scared me, Bren…” Mac was slightly embarrassed, recalling the girthy, neon colored 10 inch dongs hanging from plastic boxes on the wall of Adult XXXpressions. He was too shy to ask the cashier for help, so he grabbed several boxes of condoms and a big bottle that said ‘BackDoor anal lube’ and quickly checked out.</p><p>“Well, sweetheart,” Brendon balanced his hands on Mac’s shoulders. “As an aspiring medical professional, I have to advise you against using non sex toys anally,” He slipped into his EMT voice again, clear and factual, which Mac always had a hard time taking seriously. It reminded him of those doctors in the soap operas his mom watched.</p><p>“But as your boyfriend,” Regular Brendon spoke again, and Mac bit his lip to keep the butterflies within him from showing all over his face. He never got tired of hearing that word. “I think it’s hot as hell that you’ve been...practicing.” His hands slid down Mac’s body to rest on the swell of his ass, lightly squeezing. </p><p>Mac arched into his touch, absolutely wild over how much space on his body Brendon’s hands could cover. “Can I show you what I’ve been working on?” He whispered into Brendon’s mouth, pushing both hands into his jacket to slip it off of him. </p><p>The soft <em> clunk </em> of the garment hitting the floor ignited their passion, a fast forwarding of actions to disrobe. Cufflinks undone, ties unfurled and belts discarded in an unspoken race to nudity against impatience. </p><p>Brendon swiftly lifted Mac into his arms and Mac squealed in delight, happily wrapping his legs around Brendon’s waist. After dating for a month, he finally admitted he loved being able to lift Mac in his arms, holding him close and kissing him without either needing to strain his neck. And he also loved showing off, because Mac loved him showing off. </p><p>Brendon carried Mac to bed, laying him down before covering his body with his own. Their skin was hot and tacky, catching and rubbing around soft joints and creases. Mac hardened underneath him, his dick resting in the ridge of Brendon’s abs. It seemed sophomoric to grind up against him ashamedly, but the way his dick slot between the muscles so perfectly...Mac didn’t want to argue with nature. Or fleshlights, for that matter. </p><p>“Okay, so, we’re laying down,” Brendon punctuated every few words with a kiss. He jut his hips forward, dick pulling against the crease of Mac’s groin. “And we’re naked...and I’m on top of you….”</p><p>Mac hiked his legs up at the knee, spreading himself open until the back of his thighs touched his chest. He stretched like this every morning before getting out of bed, softening the tight muscles of his hips until he was almost perfectly flat. Brendon watched in pure awe. </p><p>“And I’m ready for what’s next.” He urged, grinding his hips up into Brendon’s abs with a low groan. </p><p>“I...fuck Mac,” Brendon closed his eyes to stay focused away from the slow drag of Mac’s dick over his stomach. “Do you have condoms? Lube?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. I bought loads,” he said proudly. “Hope you’re ready to go rounds.” Mac raised his brows suggestively at Brendon before nudging out of his way to reach into his bedside dresser. Maybe he went overboard at the sex shop like some clueless virgin, but porn and the internet didn’t give him much indication on what was <em> too many </em>prophylactics for gay sex. </p><p>His fingers fumbled around for the plastic bag full of condoms and the heavy bottle of lube, accidentally brushing against his Bible. <em> Goddammit. </em> He made a note to say a few Hail Marys tomorrow before church, just to get ahead of the curve. The ‘gay sex as a sin’ wasn’t so much of his concern anymore, it was premarital penetrative sex that was now getting his goat. </p><p>It wasn’t like Mac was an actual virgin...but he wasn’t in a relationship with the handful of girls he had slept with. He rationalized that if there was no chance of marriage, then it couldn’t be premarital sex. </p><p>Marrying Brendon seemed realistic though. </p><p>Mac pushed a condom into Brendon’s palm and gave him a trusting kiss. He was sure that physically he was ready for sex, and unsure if his emotions would change towards Brendon. When he reluctantly took Laura McNulty's virginity in the 10th grade, she followed him around the rest of the school year, uncaring that he didn’t want to be her boyfriend and that he was actively (tragically) having sex with other girls. </p><p>Mac wasn’t a clingy bitch, but he was already infatuated with all of Brendon. It seemed inevitable, no matter how he sliced it. </p><p>“You tell me if it doesn’t feel good, okay?” Brendon advised, sitting back on his heels and twisting the cap of lube open. He had fingered Mac only once before, in the earlier days, but Mac was too anxious to enjoy it and they just jerked off together instead. </p><p>Everything about this guy was <em> thick</em>. Mac remembered why their first fingering foray failed at the press of Brendon’s middle finger at his asshole. “<em>God, Bren</em>.” Mac groaned, disappointed in the sensation of dull pain as he gently pushed inward. <em> It shouldn’t hurt anymore, why does it still hurt?! </em> </p><p>Brendon was halfway between his first knuckle and second before curling his finger upwards to prod at the tight nub of Mac’s prostate. It took a second of wiggling, pushing deeper before Mac exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, hands balled into fists and the faintest cry spilling from his lips. “Oh fuck, do that again, do it again dude, <em> please</em>.” He begged, any discomfort being grossly overshadowed by the pure joy in having his g-spot teased. </p><p>Brendon slowly pumped his finger in and out, taking care to prod up ever so slightly on the in stroke. “Can you take another, sweetheart?” Brendon asked, his voice airy and distant. He was laser focused and yet a little sex drunk over what was happening under his thumb, for lack of a better phrase. </p><p>Mac nodded wildly, tapping repeatedly on his arm until Brendon slipped his ring finger inside. Mac’s eyes flew open only to roll to the back of his head, the familiar need to come and <em> soon </em> rumbling deep within him. He cried out wantonly, shimmying his hips down further to rush the process, reveling in how full he felt. Mac pressed his heels into the bed to rock into Brendon’s palm with a screech. Even though it wasn’t the point of tonight, Mac was fully prepared to get off exactly like this. </p><p>Brendon leaned forward quickly, trying to silence his cries with a kiss but Mac’s jaw went slack. </p><p>“You gotta be quiet,” Brendon warned, his hand stilling its movements to a desperate whine from Mac. “Dennis is in the other room.”</p><p>“Fuck Dennis!” Mac couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth, but he didn’t regret it. Dennis knew what Mac had planned tonight and still tried to ruin it. He couldn’t stand the fact that Mac was happy and in love and Mac was sick of it. </p><p>If Dennis was treated to the sounds of Mac getting his organs rearranged, then oh well. Nobody told him to come here, tonight of all nights. </p><p>“My apartment, my boyfriend, our special night. I don’t give a shit who hears.”</p><hr/><p>Dennis could feel his heartbeat from within his skull, a distinct pounding that he was convinced was audible. The nap felt short and only slightly restorative. Opening his eyes seemed like a poor idea but the blessing of darkness comforted his brain, and he registered that he was at Charlie and Mac’s apartment. </p><p>He removed the cool rag from his forehead to sit up slowly. He was hyper aware of the weight of his stomach, a stone on his right side that felt like it could emerge from his rib cage at any moment. The Gatorade and aspirin caught his eye on the table and he groaned reaching out for it, his limbs still heavy from the 4 (or more, he lost count) Long Island Iced Teas he sucked down hours earlier. </p><p>It took every bit of strength Dennis had left to unscrew the cap of both bottles to swallow two pills and the rest of the Gatorade, the feral taste of bile going down with it. The idea of eating that banana made his chest hurt so he settled for the glass of water, chugging it on one breath. Anything to quell this feeling of impending death. </p><p>Dennis laid back down on the couch, liquid sloshing inside of him, trying to get comfortable. Sleep was the only equalizer he had left, too impatient to stay awake for the aspirin to work on its own. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment until he heard a familiar sound, one that often crept into his best dreams and left him achingly hard when he woke up. </p><p>It was Mac, moaning. </p><p>There was no mistaking it. It was the same sound he heard when they were kids. The same sound he heard 6 months earlier rip from Mac’s throat, that Dennis watched fall from his swollen lips as Mac came into Brendon's mouth. The same exact sound, slightly feminine and desperate and <em> whorish </em> in a way that made Dennis never want to watch porn ever again. Nothing would ever sound as good. </p><p>The sound of hushed voices came shortly after, but it was too late. Dennis was hard, unsurprisingly, and sleep be damned. He had to hear Mac again, had to know what about Brendon made him so perfect. Dennis felt out of control of his own body as he got up, walking slowly with socked feet towards Mac’s bedroom. </p><p>He tucked himself behind the half wall separating the kitchen and the living room in case Charlie came wandering, and closed his eyes, listening. </p><p>
  <em> “I’m ready, I promise.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You sure? I can wait, sweetheart. I want this to be so good for you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s already so good Bren. I need you now, I’m ready.”  </em>
</p><p>Dennis squeezed himself outside of his jeans. He was lightheaded and weak kneed, but pushed his limits to stay upright so he could hear this to the end. </p><hr/><p>Mac almost chickened out, the breathtaking sensation of Brendon’s dick head circling his asshole threatening his resolve. <em> He probably used a little too much lube</em>, he thought, a little squicked out by the viscous wetness trickling between his cheeks. </p><p>He didn’t realize he was holding his breath again until Brendon kissed him softly, smoothing his thumb over Mac’s cheek. “Sweetheart?” </p><p>“Mmhmm. Just do it.” Mac nodded, eyes squeezed shut, the sheets balled tightly in his fists, heart nearly beating out his chest.</p><p>Brendon held himself steady and pushed in achingly slow, allowing Mac to adapt to the stretch of just the head. “<em>Holy fucking hell, </em>” Mac complained, breathing through the discomfort like he was experiencing contractions. That cucumber wasn’t wide enough, but it was a little too late now. “Slower, Bren.”</p><p>“I’ve got you, Mac. Trust me,” Brendon answered, strained, pushing forward another quarter inch. The pain was teetering on unbearable. “Tell me what you want, baby.”</p><p>“I want to feel like I’m not being split in half, Bren.” Mac snapped, frustrated. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Their first time was supposed to be magical and sexy, not with Mac about to tap out to preserve his ability to ever sit down comfortably again. </p><p>Brendon mustered up his strength to stay still and placed kisses across Mac’s cheeks. “I can stop, sweetheart. I won’t be mad or disappointed, you know that.” He murmured patiently, licking into Mac’s mouth. Mac relaxed, only slightly. </p><p>“No, no, I want this. I want you so bad, Bren. This is all I want. I’m not gonna bitch out now.” Mac felt like such a brat. He pressed his head into the pillows and tried to fight off the desire to cry. </p><p>“Take a deep breath and relax yourself,” Brendon spoke slowly, stroking Mac’s face. Mac followed his advice, taking long, sobering breaths. On his next exhale Brendon slid forward another inch to Mac’s wide eyed surprise. “See? You just have to relax. Are you okay?”</p><p>Mac peered between their bodies to see Brendon’s dick was halfway inside of him. He felt so full already, but Brendon wasn’t anywhere near his g-spot yet.</p><p>“I’m okay, I’m okay. Keep going.” </p><p>Mac took another deep breath and Brendon pushed forward again, startled when Mac shouted a stream of curses no altar boy should know, nails pressed hard into Brendon’s shoulders. “Right there, right there, right there!” He babbled, unadulterated goodness tickling his nerve endings. </p><p>The pressure of Brendon’s dick pushed firmly and steadily on Mac’s g spot clouded his vision with stars. This was better than any high he had ever experienced. He would have been doing gay sex years ago if he knew it always felt this fantastic. At the bare minimum, he would have at least bought a good butt plug. </p><p>“Almost in, oh <em> Mac</em>,” Brendon gritted through his teeth, sweat collecting on his brow. He willed himself away from the carnal itch to start humping with abandon and bottomed out, fully inside of Mac. “Oh sweetheart, God, you’re so perfect.” He cooed, biting his own lip to control himself. </p><p>They stared at one another, both still and joined together, Mac feeling a joy so precious he could sob. Something pooled in his stomach, warm and tingly and sexy. He leaned up and brought their lips together and the <em> something </em> stirred within him faster, quickening his breath and Mac chased it, nudging Brendon’s hip back with his foot to encourage him to move.</p><p>Brendon pulled out somewhat with intention, still deep in Mac’s kiss, and before Mac could prepare himself he was back inside, spearing that glorious spot. Mac gasped; the intense energy coursing through his waist was almost too much for him to handle. </p><p>“More, Bren, please, dude I need it,” he beseeched, patting his back. “You feel so good.” </p><p>Brendon hooked his arms under Mac’s shoulders for leverage and started to thrust, shifting the bed frame against the wall with the strength of his movements. The sound didn’t dissuade him and Mac wailed his thanks, tightening the hold his legs had around Brendon’s back. His dick rubbed against Brendon’s stomach and he held his hips up for more contact, his core tightening to keep himself up. The combination of sensations brought tears to his eyes.</p><p>Each push and pull inside of him was electrifying. The pain and tightness lingered but each jab to his prostate had Mac forgetting his discomfort and anxiety. He was swept up in taking every impetus Brendon gave him like he had been taking dick forever. </p><p>“God, Mac you’re perfect, everything about you is perfect, oh Mac,” Brendon panted into Mac’s neck, his grunts growing more uncontrolled as he neared his climax. Mac always found him to be too quiet when they fumbled around in the past. He liked moaning. It felt good releasing the pent up sounds, having them stolen from his chest out of his control. To hear Brendon finally expressing his bliss, and not caring who heard, was enough spank bank material to last a lifetime. He sounded so fucking <em> manly</em>, Mac could hardly stand it. </p><p>“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Brendon spoke into the sweat slick skin above Mac’s collarbone, kissing his pulse. He had never sounded so wild before. “‘M so close, want to come with you.”  </p><p>Mac obeyed without hesitation, wrapping a hand around his ruddy dick and nearly passing out from need. He was moments away from losing the hold on his orgasm while Brendon seemed hell bent on driving every last drop of come right out of him. Mac stroked himself with fervor, wrist twisting over his dickhead in that way that he had perfected in recent years. </p><p>In the same way that Dennis did. The same way that Mac learned how to do when they were 16, from watching Dennis jerk off in his sleep.</p><p>Mac didn’t even register the stagger of Brendon’s hips or his loud, breathy groan muffled into his shoulder as Brendon orgasmed like nothing short of a freight train. </p><p>Before the stars clouded his vision, before the tears streamed down his face and the come shot hot and messy between their bodies, all Mac could picture was the image of Dennis, thrusting into his own hand, his wrist twisting as he cried Mac’s name.</p><hr/><p>Dennis held a hand over his mouth as he quickly and quietly fucked his hand on the other side of the door, the shame creeping up as he neared his climax. He felt pathetic, tears pooling in his eyes as he listened to Mac get fucked, crying out Brendon’s name with no care for secrecy. He was jealous of the headboard sounds, of how Brendon could simultaneously speak to Mac like he was royalty while he was fucking him into oblivion.</p><p>Mac’s noises grew breathier with each passing second and Dennis fought off the alcohol to rub himself faster. His body began to sob out of his control when that blessed sound of Mac’s orgasm filled his ears. Dennis came too, right in that same magical moment, tears and snot dribbling embarrassingly down his face.</p><p>
  <em> “I love you, Mac. I love you so much, Sweetheart. You’re crying...did I hurt you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, no, I’m fine. I’m so happy, Bren...I love you too. Fuck yeah, we finally said it. I love you, dude. It feels so good to say it. I love you so fuckin’ much.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon laughed. They were silent for a few moments. “You gotta stop calling me dude while we’re doing sexy stuff. It makes me laugh!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Silence again. More laughter. “Fine, bro. I’ll stop calling you dude when you have your dick in my a-hey! Don’t tickle me!” </em>
</p><p>Dennis had never felt filthier, more down and debased than this very moment. Mac chose Brendon. Mac loved Brendon. Mac was with Brendon because Dennis couldn’t get over his own shit, and he lost him. In one night, Dennis lost the only person he ever really loved, and there was no getting him back. </p><p>Haphazardly Dennis wiped his come on the inside of his boxers and dragged his feet back into the living room. </p><p>He succumbed to his tears before his face even hit the pillow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sad Dennis is sad but everything is coming up Mac! Literally!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Riding On The Wind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>While on a ski trip, Mac isolates himself to mull over the last few months. Later, he and Dennis connect in an unconventional way, which complicates things for them both.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey all you cool cats n kittens, it's been about 84 years since I last updated this cause ya girl doesn't have any executive function anymore but she's done! </p><p>We are about 4 years into the future here. </p><p>I'm gonna pre-apologize for the angst cause whew...wrote this amidst more than one depressive episode so it's chock full 'o feelings. I'm posting this now and jumping right into writing the next chapter and maybe we'll see the conclusion to our saga before 2021 (at least, I'm hoping). </p><p>Enjoy~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t happen the 4th time, but it should have. It doesn’t happen because Dennis Reynolds knows no boundaries, and Mac is too weak to build them. </p><p>“You ready to hit the slopes, man?” </p><p>Mac snapped out of his reverie, feeling overheated and claustrophobic in his ski gear. Dennis had waved a gloved hand in front of his eyes to catch his attention. Behind him, Dee and a nervous Charlie waited expectantly, arms full of poles and skis. </p><p>Mac loved skiing, craved it every spring and summer on the rainier and stickier days. He had traveled up north with the Reynolds family twice, sometimes three times a month every winter for the last 8 years, and this year was no exception. </p><p>He <em> should </em>want to ski, now, on opening day, the morning after a fresh snow with clear skies and 30 degree weather, not too cold. </p><p>Brendon was supposed to be there, poking fun at the way Mac likes to lace up his boots or trying to race him to the bottom of the mountain. He grew up skiing and liked to think his extra decade of experience made him better than Mac, which wasn’t true. His endurance was stronger from basketball conditioning, but he couldn’t get speed like Mac could. </p><p>When Brendon flew them both to Aspen to ski last February, for what Mac thought of as vacation, Mac beat him to the base almost every time. He let Brendon win once just to see his face crinkle into a smile, those fucking dimples that took his breath away creased alongside perfect teeth. And when they had sex later that night in their cabin, lying bare in front of the lit fireplace, Mac whispered to him how great his ass looked from behind. He came only moments later and Mac felt like they were invincible, as long as they were together. </p><p>Brendon was supposed to be there. Mac figured he was halfway to Denver by now, a UHaul packed tight with all of his belongings and probably none of the memories they had made in the last 4 years. </p><p>Brendon was supposed to be there. Mac wanted him there.</p><p>But it was over. Four years, eight months, two weeks and five days, gone.</p><p>“You guys go, I’m not feeling too hot, you know? I...I’ll catch up later.” Mac’s voice sounded pathetic enough that the lie wasn’t too far from the truth.</p><p>Dennis looked disappointed in a pitying way, frowning. Mac lied to himself and called it empathy. “Alright then, I guess we’ll meet up at the bar downstairs?”</p><p>Mac put on a brave face, one he was sure they all saw through. “Yeah, the bar, that sounds good.”</p><p>***</p><p>Things unraveled slowly. Mac had always thought it would be like it was on TV; something big and dramatic would happen, and they would fight for hours and Brendon would pack up the things he kept at Mac’s place and leave. Instead, their relationship died over time, the love being peeled away painstakingly, like removing the crispy skin from an onion without a knife. </p><p>Brendon remained loyal and loving throughout all 4 years. He never once raised his voice at Mac. He worked through every de-escalation tactic in the book from years of <em>therapizing</em> parents before he ever reached anger with Mac.</p><p>And Mac fucking hated him for it. </p><p>Mac liked anger. That’s how his parents worked through their shit. He wanted the yelling and the cursing and the pushing until the air was hot and they’d have no choice but to kiss the tension away and fuck until the madness was shoved so far to the side that it rolled under the bed, only to be seen again if it was sought after. He wanted to see Brendon and those beautiful goddamn dimples flexed in frustration because that’s what Mac had frothing inside of him, bottled up tight. </p><p>It should have been a blow up knock down fight. One they couldn’t come back from. Where they said ugly things that were meant to wound, tearing into the soft underbelly of their most sensitive sides. </p><p>But it would never come. There wasn’t anything ugly about the way Brendon loved him. </p><p>And that was the first layer of onion skin. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em> “Aren’t you mad?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon rested his hands on Mac’s shoulders. “Mad for what? You had to work at the last minute, sweetheart. I know you would have come to the dinner if you could have.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon had received an award for being the overall male MVP from the Penn Players Association. The dinner was Black tie and Brendon’s parents, his roommates and childhood friends all went. And Mac was called into work a few hours before they were to leave, because the usual bartender got food poisoning.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> An ugly relief settled over him as he canceled attending, such little affect over his voice he was sure Brendon saw right through him. Mac didn’t try to fight for someone else to come in, and he could have, he had before. There were other people that could have worked for him tonight. Charlie could have stepped in, and Mac knew he would with a little bribing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But Mac didn’t particularly want to be in another memory with Brendon. And he couldn’t figure out why, either.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac brushed his hands away. “You should be angry with me. I missed this huge thing that you worked your ass off to earn. You can be mad at me!” If he gave Brendon any more bait he would smell like fish and still Brendon looked at him with genuine concern and bewilderment.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t understand why you want me to be angry with you, but I’m not, Mac,” Brendon undid his bow tie with one hand and tossed it on his dresser. “I just want to lay down with you and talk about your day.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac conceded briefly, watching Brendon undress. He should leave it alone, kiss him goodnight and go home and be happy. Be grateful that for the last 4 years he was loved unconditionally and beautifully and poetically.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No. I don’t want that. I know you’re upset and I want you to tell me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon’s brow furrowed in what was the closest thing to frustration Mac had truly ever seen from him. “And what would that solve, sweetheart? It’s irrational to be upset with you over something you couldn’t control, so I’m not going to be. What’s going on, Mac?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What’s going on?” Mac could feel himself snapping, splintering away from rationality. He couldn’t stop himself. “What’s going on is I didn’t even try to get out of the shift because I didn’t want to go tonight, alright? What’s going on is you treat me like I’m some delicate fucking flower all the goddamn time!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon stood dumbfounded. His face flushed an uncomfortable red. The crisply pressed tuxedo jacket he wore was now wrung between his closed fists.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I am a man, Brendon! I’m 24 years old and you won’t argue with me because I’m still that 19 year old twink with the bloody nose to you,” Mac was pacing, panting. He was bigger and older now, committed to working out with Brendon daily, and still he knew they weren’t equals. “You’d let me get away with fucking murder if I wanted because you won’t treat me like we’re the same!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon took a deep, measured breath. They stared at one another for a beat, silent.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re...right. You’re right. I do let you off easy for a lot of things, and I’m sorry for that,” He threw his hands up in defeat. “I think a part of me knows this is your first gay relationship and while I want us to last forever, I don’t want you to have any regrets about coming out for a guy that treated you poorly and always picked fights over little things, and so on.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac softened immediately. Even in wrongness, Brendon was still truly kind.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m gonna ask you again. Are you mad at me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon sighed, cradled his head in his hands. It was nearly a minute before he spoke again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, Mac. I’m upset that you weren’t there tonight. I wish you could have seen my speech or been in the pictures. I wish I could have looked into the audience and seen you there. It would have meant a lot to me.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac exhaled for the first time in what felt like months. Finally.  </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>It was nice to sit at a wooden countertop that he hadn’t personally cleaned and tended on. They had owned Paddy’s Pub for the last 9 months, purchased by Dennis with the money he was supposed to use for his final years of vet school. His old boss was getting ready to sell it to the bank and Dennis, in his infinite wisdom, purchased the bar for pennies on the dollar and brought Charlie and Mac in as co-owners. Mac was doing what he had been for the last 6 years, but now he could make rules and show up when he felt like it and not have to answer to anybody else. </p><p>Owning a bar was surprisingly a dream come true, but there was nothing like drinking at a place you weren’t responsible for. He liked the anonymity, the foreign surroundings, the different smells. </p><p>The woodgrain on this bar was different than Paddy’s, swirlier with a darker stain. Maybe the tree that made this bar top was older, bigger than the one at Paddy’s. Maybe it lived a longer life, shaded more people and creatures before being brought down, stripped of its skin and cut and molded to be flat, submissive. Sanded and varnished and polished until it no longer looked like itself, just an idea of what it once was in the swirls of its rings. </p><p>“Another beer?” The barkeep questioned, eyebrow raised. He had been tending bar on the mountain for as long as Mac could remember, and had been failing to check ids for longer than that. </p><p>Mac looked at his glass, surprised it was empty. He had been here ruminating long enough that it was probably warm when he swallowed the rest. “Yeah, thanks man.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em> Mac wasn’t a cheater. The temptation was strong but the Catholic guilt felt stronger.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dancing at The Rainbow was decidedly not cheating. A few nights a week he would grind his ass up on a random guy built exactly like Brendon for a couple of songs and leave. And with the buzz of the night air around him as he walked home alone, he would ride the thrill of knowing he could have taken that guy into the bathroom and sucked his dick.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But that would be cheating, and Mac wasn’t a cheater.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Going out alone was a recent development. It started with lying to Brendon on his overnight shifts, claiming he was out with Dennis or still at the bar. Brendon had stopped surprising him with dinner or kisses years ago, but it was still an easy enough lie to be caught in, and that’s what made it so exhilarating. Brendon had promised to actually get cross with him when it was warranted, but nothing Mac had done was bad enough to get angry over.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Until now.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The guys were always taller, 6 foot and over as he preferred. He’d stay pressed against a wall with something strong in his hand and just wait for them to see him, wearing something mesh and skimpy that showed off his body. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The music would be loud and thump hard, the kind of beat that shuts out the noise swirling in his brain so he could just dance. He’d writhe his hips to the rhythm, press his back flush against their tall bodies and just move. Brendon didn’t like places like this. Or dancing in such a way, for that matter.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There wasn’t anything special about tonight’s guy, except for his hair. Dusky brown and curly like Dennis’. Ugh.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They danced for two songs and his hands were bruising-tight on Mac’s waist, edging on painful. Still, it felt sexy to be manhandled. The third song began and he held Mac to his chest with a strong arm, hips still shaking to the beat.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You like it rough, huh?” He spoke deep into Mac’s ear. He wasn’t from around here but Mac couldn’t place the accent.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac shrugged, though he felt inclined to say yes. Brendon wasn’t rough. He never grabbed Mac by the collar while he was cooking dinner and pushed him up against a door, kissing him stupid. It seemed so sexy in the movies. So much passion in the heavier hands and unyielding surfaces on which he wanted to be loved.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The hand on Mac’s chest slid up to his collarbone, a solid pressure. Heat pooled in his belly. Mac looked around to see if anybody noticed them, but the darkness and moving bodies didn’t allow for them to stick out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What about this?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. His tongue felt strangely heavy in his mouth.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The guy brought his hand up higher, gently wrapped his hand around the upper part of Mac’s throat. Even without the threat of being choked, Mac could have creamed his pants.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He must have moaned, encouraging the guy to press his fingers inward lightly. A suggestion and an invitation. The ache in his jeans was ever present. Dizzyingly so.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.” He growled low in his throat before tearing his body away like a ghost. Mac watched him walk away, not looking over his shoulder because he was sure Mac would obey.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And fuck if he didn’t think about it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The air that night didn’t buzz. There was no thrill. He ran home, goosebumps from the rushing night air, mind clogged with loud thoughts that the music could no longer shield him from.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He scrubbed himself clean, nearly raw, in the shower, mindlessly chanted through three Hail Marys because that made sense, that felt right.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Later, after Brendon had come over from work, Mac all but begged him for sex. Asked in a somewhat desperate way to be choked while he pounded him unforgivingly. Mac anticipated the no before he even inquired, so it hurt less when Brendon balked at the idea of slapping Mac across the face. He couldn’t fathom hurting Mac during sex.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac couldn’t fathom enjoying sex ever again without it hurting. It scared him as much as it excited him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They had sex anyway. Gentle, “married for a decade Catholic” sex.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac waited until Brendon was asleep before he wept in the bathroom.  </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>“Tell me you’re not wasted yet dude,” Charlie looked soggier than usual, sweaty and a little sunburnt from hours on the slopes. “Dee made me take this beginner's class and I think I know how to ski now? But also I’m sore as shit so we’re doing shots.”</p><p>Mac was decidedly not drunk off of three beers, but all of Charlie’s words sounded like he was speaking underwater. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but everything below his belly button had fallen asleep.  </p><p>“Hellooo? Earth to Mac?”</p><p>Mac smiled weakly. It felt phony. “Nah I’m good, dude. Let’s do shots.”</p><p>Sometime between the 3rd and 4th shot, Dee dragged everybody upstairs to play Truth or Dare. They sat in a semi circle in front of the lit fireplace in Dee and Charlie’s room, all cozy in sweatpants and thick wool socks that Lupita knit special for the occasion. </p><p>Mac picked at a loose thread on his sweater and twiddled it in his fingers while the game went on around him, chiming in when asked, sipping his drink when appropriate. His poker face was weak, and the less eye contact to expose himself as the sad sack he was, the better. </p><p>“Mac!”</p><p>He jumped, nearly knocking over his Jack and coke. “Hmm? Sorry, I...I zoned out.”</p><p>Dee rolled her eyes so hard her head lolled a bit. “Truth or dare?” </p><p>He was comfy on the floor and the last dare began a slippery descent into unhinged territory; Dee had to lick Charlie’s foot or finish the half full handle of vodka...she chose the foot. </p><p>Mac sighed. “Truth.”</p><p>“Hmm…” Dee took a substantial sip of her drink before speaking. “Did you do some wild shit with Brendon in the bedroom?” Her eyebrows wiggled as she barked a laugh. “He was definitely a whips and chains kind of guy, right? It’s always the nice, quiet ones.” </p><p>Charlie grimaced mid swallow, causing him to choke on his beer. “Oh c'mon Dee, you always have to make it weird.”</p><p>Dennis’ eyes bore into the side of Mac’s head. He was seemingly unmoved by the question. </p><p>Mac hadn’t let on much that the breakup had shattered him completely, so he couldn’t even really be mad at Dee for asking. As far as everybody knew, it was amicable and easy. Truthfully, he wanted to laugh at the assumption giving the sad reality of it all. </p><p>Mac could feel the heat coming off of his face, hoping it was easily blamable on the roaring fire next to him. He only had seconds to make a move, otherwise he might as well admit he and his ex-boyfriend were <em> really </em> into light bondage and masochism, which wasn’t entirely the case. Silence was not an ally here.</p><p>“Eh, I...you know? I, uh,” He idly scratched the back of his neck, trying to eke out some extra time. He could lie. His closest friends didn’t have to know that Brendon was prudish and Mac couldn’t settle for that anymore. He didn’t have to say that. He didn’t have to say anything. </p><p>“Yeah. I mean no! No, no, no, not at all. I got confused, um, by your question.” <em> Smooth </em>. </p><p>The twins sported matching eyebrow raises, intrigued, while Charlie looked mildly concerned and somewhat grossed out. </p><p>“<em> Duuude </em>.”</p><p>“That’s...something.”</p><p>“Well alright then!” Dennis clapped his hands and roughly shook Mac on the shoulder. “Didn’t know you had it in you, buddy. Nice.” </p><p>The panic was coming. This was not supposed to happen, this isn’t actually happening, he didn’t just throw himself under the bus like this. </p><p>Quickly he stood up, knocking what was left of his drink into his lap and the glass to the rug below with a soft thud. The contrast in temperature from the ice made his skin sting a little. Everyone was just drunk enough to have a delayed reaction to his movement and he took advantage, scurrying out of their circle before any of them could protest. </p><p>“I, um...I’m gonna go pool, or something. I’ll see you guys later.” He blurted, gone from the room and down the hall without any of them processing what had just happened. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em> It had been 3 days since they last spoke.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac had tried again, months later. This time, with a little more tact and a lot less lust, he asked Brendon to be a little tougher with him in bed. He emphasized how it would make him feel supported and cared for and several other therapy words if Brendon engaged with him this way. He explained at length about safewords and consent. He prattled off all the research he had done on safe choking and bondage.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He tried desperately to convey that all he wanted was Brendon to keep an open mind and just try this with him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At the time, Brendon had agreed on the condition they started slowly. Mac would have crawled at a snail’s pace if that meant he could have what he wanted. If all Brendon could give was a centimeter, Mac would have prayed every day it would turn into an inch.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But when the time came, after hours of talking, explanations and expectations, Brendon couldn’t do it. He had successfully slapped him during practice, when they were clothed and just sitting across from one another on the couch. It was a tap across the cheek, not too hard but enough to make a sound, and more than enough to make Mac weak in the knees.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac was sure Brendon could see the immediate tension release from his body when the contact occurred. He had to have seen Mac’s eyes roll to the back of his head just slightly at the rush of pain, the light prickly feeling left over so sweet, so freeing.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon could have absolutely done it. He just wouldn’t do it. And that was a problem.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac left and they hadn’t spoken in three days. They never, ever fought. Technically this wasn’t even a fight. </em>
</p><p><em> Brendon arrived at Mac’s apartment with his tail between his legs, </em> <em> guilty and apologetic. The only other time Mac could remember him looking so regretful was </em> <em> that party. Four years, eight months, two weeks and five days ago.  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Can we talk? Please?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac let him in, left him to get settled while he put on a pot of coffee. His hands itched to do something while he collected his thoughts. He had anticipated Brendon running after him, calling him within the hour, showing up with flowers the next morning.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He left Mac alone for three days and Mac had no idea if he would ever come back. Mac wasn’t even sure if he wanted him back.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He fixed them both cups that he knew would go untouched, but still Brendon took a few polite sips. Mac's fingers fiddled together nervously, his own cup abandoned. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I got the job in Denver, Mac.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Denver, where he had flown them out for a Valentine’s vacation, and dropped the idea that maybe they could start a life there together. Mac hadn’t known there was a job. He wouldn’t know until they landed back in Pennsylvania that the trip was a dry run, because the Catholic hospital had an opening for a head RN, and Brendon had the references though not the experience, so it was a long shot, nothing to worry about, no harm in applying.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘There are breweries all over Denver, it’d be so easy for you to get a job. My parents would help us buy a house, and we could ski most of the year. Doesn't that sound great, sweetheart?’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All Mac could say was, ’Maybe one day,’ and then four weeks later signed the paperwork that entitled him to 33% of the bar he had worked at for the last 6 years.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Denver was never brought up again.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac took a sobering breath. They had just started getting the hang of things at Paddy’s. They were making money, too, good money. Mac was finally feeling like an adult. He could push aside the sex stuff, he could, if that meant he could have full control over his life for once.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His life here, in South Philly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He cleared his throat before he spoke. “That’s great, Bren. I’m happy for you.” The lie hung in the air between them. He wished he could have grabbed his words and swallowed them whole, like he never suggested this was something to be positive about.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon still smiled sheepishly. God, those fucking dimples.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I found out last night,” He wouldn’t look at Mac and that was unnerving. “I wanted you to be the first to know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac snorted a laugh, a rude habit he picked up from Dennis. Sweat collected on the back of his neck. “So this is why you came over?” There was the anger. An old friend. Anger was better than panic, which he could feel tickling at his nerves.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No! No, no Mac, gosh,” Brendon scooted closer to him on the couch. He gently took Mac’s hand in his and squeezed. “I’m so sorry. For everything. Relationships are about compromise and I fell short of meeting you in the middle. I thought you wanted space so I left you alone. I missed you, sweetheart. But I didn’t know what to say, and I figured maybe good news would be the place to start.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Good news. Mac’s brain buzzed with the realization of the moment. His heart rate quickened.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Denver.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He got the longshot job in Denver. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This is not good news, Brendon,” Mac said, seemingly from outside of his body. He looked away so he didn’t have to watch Brendon’s face crumble. “Was this supposed to make me happy?” His voice cracked a little. The idea of crying seemed exhausting, and yet it was happening anyway. “Was leaving everything I’ve ever loved supposed to make me happy?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I was hoping it would, but I can see that’s not the case,” Brendon was calm, sweet. He wiped gingerly at Mac’s cheeks. “I thought we could start a life out there. Buy a house and some horses. You liked it when we visited.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Under false pretenses!” Mac snapped, snatching his hand away. “It was just supposed to be a vacation. You told me it was a longshot, dude. I didn’t think I’d ever have to think about it again! We have a life here. I have everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I could need, right here in Philly.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And Dennis. Dennis was here.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sweetheart I-“ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac held a hand up to stop him and even that felt too mean. “Don’t, Brendon. Just fucking don’t, man.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He cried quietly into his palms.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This was it. The last layer of onion skin, dried and decaying, falling away from their relationship. Brendon didn’t view them as equals. The sex would never be what Mac needed. They would move across the country with no friends and no family and resent the other when it all imploded, and they’d only have each other to seek for comfort. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sting burned worse than he could imagine.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When he looked up Brendon was also in tears, which always broke Mac’s heart. He was an emotional guy and a beautiful crier and now was no exception. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The ache began to seep into Mac’s bones once again. The feeling was as familiar as it was unwelcome. This was completely and utterly exhausting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac placed his palm over his own heart before reaching out for Brendon’s. The ritual was grounding.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No judgment?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No judgment.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They both sobbed for a moment, clutching hands, holding each other’s sadness. For as disconnected as they had been lately, sadness remained their balancer. Outside things made them sad together, like movies and Brittany Murphy dying and that one Sara McLaughlin commercial.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They never made one another sad, not like this. This was devastatingly poetic. A tragedy only their love could compose.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The death was coming soon. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m not happy anymore, Bren." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know, sweetheart.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You have to go to Denver.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> All six feet and six inches of Brendon seemed to collapse, breaking into doll sized pieces on Mac's living room floor. He had never looked so small.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And I can’t go with you.” </em>
</p><p>**</p><p>Mac sighed into the steamy heat of the sauna, trying to relax. The room was empty, and he had half a mind to lock the door. He didn’t need any more time alone with his thoughts, but it seemed like a better choice than staying under the judgy eyes of his friends, or the concerned gaze of some stranger. </p><p>Everything ached. He walked around like he had just survived combat, joints clicking, muscles straining to do their part. The bags under his eyes felt permanently dark. He was so tired. </p><p>The break up happened nearly a month ago and it felt like he hadn’t gotten any true rest in that time, just closing his eyes every night to lie in wait until the sun rose. </p><p>There was no blowup, knock down fight. Nothing ugly was said. And he was tired all the same. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em> The moving truck was outside of Mac’s building, which Mac hadn’t left much the last few weeks. He dragged himself out of bed to shower, only to give the illusion that this breakup wasn’t singlehandedly the hardest emotional event of his adulthood. They had to exchange the last pieces of their relationship before Brendon left for good, and if he looked like he hadn’t bathed in days Brendon would surely talk himself out of leaving. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And really, that was only a fraction of why this could no longer work.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac had no tears left to cry and still his body wept, dry and dehydrated, as he clung to that small feeling of being in Brendon’s arms. Two boxes of the other’s things laid at their feet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you remember our six month anniversary? That fancy restaurant?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac nodded against his chest. He smelled so good, fresh from the shower. He committed the scent to memory and listened to his heartbeat thump quickly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Do you remember your wish for us?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac sighed tearily. This was just absolute torture. He leaned up a little bit to look into Brendon’s tired, splotchy face. Nothing about this was fair.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac cleared his throat, sore from days of wailing. “I wished that we would never stop making each other happy.” His voice broke by the end of his sentence.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The irony was too sick to find satisfaction in. Mac had held up his end of the wish. He tried to, at least. Brendon ultimately didn’t know how to.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Neither one of them was leaving this unharmed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac looked away to avoid the sadness in Brendon’s eyes, angry with himself for doubling down. He was the one who couldn’t grin and bear it and settle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The calloused tips of Brendon’s fingers gently tipped Mac’s head up so he could look at him. God, those eyes. Those immaculately carved dimples. He offered Mac a wobbly smile.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “For what it’s worth, you never, ever stopped making me happy, Mac. I’m sorry I couldn’t...didn’t do the same for you.” He spoke so carefully, so measured, like he was afraid to say the wrong thing. Everything felt eerily final.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It shouldn’t have happened, but with damp cheeks and snotty noses they fell into a kiss, the first in weeks, soft, apologetic and honest. Mac felt like his heart was in a vice grip, squeezing tighter and tighter as the kiss went on. But he didn’t want it to end. Like maybe if they just stood here and cried and kissed that it would be enough to fix it all.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon backed away first, pressing his lips together to suppress more tears. Mac could tell he regretted it. “I should get going. Got a long drive.” The pads of his thumbs brushed away the wetness from Mac’s face. Still so tender and true.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> This fucking sucked.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mac just sniffled and nodded, watching Brendon gather the box in his big arms. What was left to be said? He made his bed of nails and sandpaper and now he had to lie in it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What was your wish, Bren?” Mac blurted, rasping. He shouldn’t know. It wouldn’t make things any easier.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Brendon opened the door and paused, taking a deep, thoughtful breath. “I wished...I wished that no matter what, we’d love each other forever. I couldn’t make your wish come true. But I will never, ever stop loving you, Mac McDonald.” </em>
</p><p>***</p><p>The heat was nice, melting away the ice that collected in his bones. Nice enough to make him temporarily forget he accidentally told his 3 closest friends that he had a kink. He could only hope they were drunk enough to let it slip their minds. </p><p>He wished it would slip his. Maybe then he and Brendon would have made it. </p><p>Mac had been sweating out the alcohol for nearly twenty minutes alone before the door to the sauna creaked open, startling him awake. He must have dozed off. </p><p>Dennis was there, clad in only a towel. The heat seemed much more oppressive all of a sudden. </p><p>“Hey! I was hoping I’d catch you in here. I checked the hot tub and pool first, but I should have known you wanted a schvitz.” Dennis’ words were succinct, and Mac swore in his head. Only when he was at his most blackout did he slur his words. And then it was a 50/50 shot if he could remember anything at all. </p><p>“Yeah I...I needed to clear my head, ‘s all,” He watched with careful eyes above Dennis’ collar bone as he sat across from him on the bamboo bench. It was hard to tell if there was anything under that towel. “Dee and Charlie?”</p><p>Dennis waved his hand. “They passed out not long after you left. Bellies down. They’ll be fine,” he leaned forward on his elbows, narrowing the space between them. Through the haze Mac could still pick out the bright blues of his eyes. “What’s with you though? I feel like we haven’t talked in awhile.”</p><p>Mac contemplated calling him on his shit. It was absolutely Dennis’ fault they hadn’t really talked in awhile, not much outside of anything Paddy’s related. It was all surface level bullshit, water cooler type talk. Even when Brendon wasn’t around, Mac came second to Dee and then Charlie for the happenings in Dennis’ life. </p><p>Saying something now was more hassle than what it was worth. “I’m alright, Den. Hanging in there.”</p><p>Dennis raised his eyebrows. A line of questioning was coming. “Are you sure? Cause you stormed out of there pretty fast earlier…” he trailed off, clearly anticipating Mac to fill in the blanks. </p><p>“Oh that?” Mac scoffed, shrugging it off. Internally his stomach flipped. “I uh, Dee just caught me off guard. Dumb bird.” A nervous cough escaped his lips. The sauna heat was stifling now. He had been in there too long. </p><p>Dennis nodded slowly, not quite convinced. He lightly tapped Mac’s knee with his cool hands. Mac tried to not recoil as if he’d been burned. “Cmon, I know you’re bullshitting me. I’m not gonna make fun of you, or anything.”</p><p>Mac’s wounds were too fresh, but he was also dying alone amongst his thoughts. He couldn’t stifle this for much longer. </p><p>“Promise?”</p><p>“Promise. What was that all about, dude?” Dennis was genuine. He had softened to Mac a lot more in the wake of, well, everything. And even if Dennis hadn’t earned Mac’s vulnerability, he was trying. That had to count for something. </p><p>Mac sighed, wiping some sweat from his forehead. Now or never. </p><p>“Dee called my bluff and I got embarrassed. I am into some kink...it’s new and confusing and I didn’t want to talk about it yet and then she asked and I…” he shrugged, out of words that he was okay with saying. </p><p>The part where his ex-boyfriend’s outright refusal to engage in his kink, which sparked the inevitable end of their relationship, and the other part where he’s still a little bit in love with Dennis, that could stay locked away. </p><p>Dennis matched his shrug. “Well that’s normal, right? Aren’t we all into kinky things? Like I’m pretty sure Dee is like a dominatrix or something. And Charlie is probably a voyeur. And I’m definitely into role play, that’s fun. So it’s, it’s normal. What’s yours?”</p><p>Mac shook his head. He didn’t feel <em> normal </em> when his kink upended a part of his life, but talking about it felt good. </p><p>“Um, BDSM? Mostly masochism. A little bit of bondage, too.” He replied, in a small voice. The automated steam settled around them and Mac could see Dennis without a haze in front of him. He didn’t seem put off, so that was nice. </p><p>“Oh yeah, the one where you like getting hit and stuff? Dennis nodded, thoughtfully. Mac winced at how pared down he made it. It was so much more than liking being hit. “I think Sandra is into that. She’s always asking me to spank her.”</p><p>Sandra. Dennis’ most recent pick of the month. She was too nice for Mac to consider hating her, and too hot to think Dennis could do better. And now he really couldn’t hate her, because they liked the same kink and that felt normal, knowing somebody else understood his needs. </p><p>“Do you do it?” Mac asked tentatively. Things were getting weird, but Mac had to know. Maybe Brendon wasn’t an anomaly. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Do you...spank her?”</p><p>Dennis took a beat before he pursed his lips. “Eh. For the most part. I’m afraid I’m gonna hurt her. She’s so small, you know? But if she asks I’ll do it, but only if she asks.”</p><p>A bit of something like pride and devastation swelled inside Mac. He was happy his friend was at least trying to respect his girlfriend’s desires. But that meant Brendon could have, too. He wouldn’t compromise. He wouldn’t meet Mac in the middle, scratch that itch inside of him, let him lose control for once…</p><p>“I gotta get out of here, dude,” Mac shoved the panic down deep, standing up slowly to adjust his body. “I’m, uh, too hot. Let’s just go?” He didn’t want to flee again and have to confess to something else. </p><p>If Dennis was nonplussed, Mac couldn’t tell. “Sure man, that’s fine. Back to the room it is.”</p><p>Mac got dressed in silence, adding a <em> hmm </em> and <em> oh </em> while Dennis spoke on about their plans for the rest of the weekend, if the Eagles would make the playoffs ( <em> go Birds </em>) and sweet, sexy, confident Sandra. There wasn’t much more he wanted to talk about, but this was the most Dennis had spoken to him one on one in years. </p><p>Maybe he should have taken Dennis’ reticence toward Brendon as a sign.</p><p>Safely ensconced in their room, Dennis got oddly quiet. Mac began to get ready for bed and just hoped Dennis had talked himself out for the night.</p><p>“Hey Mac?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Can I ask you a favor?”</p><p>Mac sat on his bed, hesitant to say yes. He felt like he could actually sleep tonight if he started resting now. He didn’t want to disappoint Dennis, though. He didn’t realize how much he missed the sound of his voice. </p><p>“Yeah, sure. Shoot.”</p><p>Dennis beamed as he sat across from Mac. The beds were close enough that their knees brushed as he settled down.</p><p>“You think, uh, you could give me some BDSM tips? I-I really want to do this for Sandra, you know? I kind of like her a lot.” </p><p>Well. </p><p>Mac felt a piece of him die right then. They had been friends for long enough for him to know that Dennis wasn't usually a good partner. He rarely truly committed, always vetting a new girl while still “dating” another. It was all about the consistent, no need-to-hunt-for sex. They would stay around for a month, maybe two, realize he’s not a great boyfriend and go. And a new girl would replace her not long after. </p><p>Mac had committed to Brendon for four years and he cared less about this one aspect of a relationship than Dennis did. God, that was a kick in the teeth. </p><p>Not to mention that tiny, irritating crush that Mac had on Dennis that would probably consume him until he died, old and broken-hearted. </p><p>Dennis looked at him expectantly, anticipating his yes. </p><p>Mac threw his hands up in semi defeat. There was no going to bed tonight, clearly. He felt pathetic over how much he craved Dennis speaking to him. “Sure, I could tell you some stuff.” </p><p>Dennis clapped his hands together in such delight that Mac half expected him to take out a notepad. “Alright so, I know about her safeword and stuff like that. But the other day she mentioned she would want to get slapped on the face and to be choked and I gotta be honest with you man, I panicked a little and kind of changed the subject,” Dennis rubbed his palms on the tops of his thighs, a nervous habit. “So, what do I do? Just backhanding her seems wrong.”</p><p>Mac blurted a chuckle. Dennis was the smartest person Mac knew and he was so lost here. </p><p>“No, no, no. Never backhand her, Jesus,” Mac closed his eyes to collect his thoughts, figure out where he should even start. There was a desperate need to please Dennis bubbling inside of him that he hadn't exactly processed how this could possibly destroy him. “Okay, stand up. I’ll show you how to choke first.” His voice said aloud. </p><p>His brain screamed at him to stop. </p><p>Mac could feel the heat coming off of Dennis’ body. Calvin Klein wafted from his clothes and he yearned to be younger again, safe away from the harshness of heartbreak. </p><p>He could do this.</p><p>Mac instinctively looked up to meet Dennis’ eyes and realized, somewhat sadly, that he didn’t have to do that anymore. </p><p>This was a mistake. </p><p>“Alright, so what do I do? One hand, two?” Dennis wiggled his fingers near their faces, cutting the tension. He still seemed serious, and that made Mac smile. </p><p>“My safeword is green, okay?” Dennis nodded solemnly and Mac took a deep breath. “Just start with one hand for right now, around my neck, yeah, like that,” The contact of Dennis’ palm on his skin sent a shiver down his spine and a tingle to his dick. With shaky hands, Mac straightened Dennis’ wrist and tried to think about cold showers. “Uh, ok, so don’t push down, that’s the trachea, and that’ll hurt bad. You’re going for her carotids, right on the sides...yeah, there, so she can get a little high. Squeeze your fingers into my neck. Start light.”</p><p>“Wow, ok, you know your shit. Like this?” Dennis applied a light bit of pressure, not enough to cut off blood supply, but the gist was there and it felt delicious. Mac was easily half hard already and he prayed the darkness of his denim jeans was enough to protect him. “Can you even feel that?”</p><p>Mac nodded, and it made him a little dizzy. He was getting dangerously hot. “Yeah, like that. I can still breathe. You want to make sure she can still breathe. You can try harder, if you want. Just hold for a few seconds and let go.”</p><p>Dennis smirked, confidence and something like mischief in his beautiful eyes. Mac knew he was determined to get this right on the first go. “Okay, yeah, I’ll try.” </p><p>It was as if Mac was hooked up to a morphine drip. The pressure was perfectly steady and not too hard, causing his eyes to fall shut in bliss. The delicious lightheaded feeling made him spin, flushing his face a dark pink. He had enough wherewithal to not moan but his jaw falling slack was of no fault of his own; it was that fucking good. </p><p>Dennis let go and Mac dropped back into the room, his eyes snapping open. “How did I do? I feel like I squeezed you too hard.” Dennis inquired, legitimately asking for criticism. A bit of concern flashed across his expression. </p><p>“That was...perfect. I would have said if it was too hard but um, for me it was great,” Mac had to focus, this wasn’t about him. His dick, however, had other plans. “Just keep talking to her and with her and pay attention to her breathing and body. You got the basics down.”</p><p>“Alright, cool, cool,” Dennis reached up and playfully pinched Mac’s right cheek. “Are you sure I can slap this chunky cheek of yours?” he teased, smiling. </p><p>Mac looked away, bashful, still blushing, still hard. “Yeah it’s okay. I want to help you, Den. For Sandra, of course.”</p><p>Something dimmed in Dennis’ eyes. Mac could have been imagining it, but something shifted. “Yes! For Sandra. What do I gotta do?”</p><p>Mac swallowed hard, taking Dennis’ right hand into his own palms. Choking was one thing, but slapping was his kryptonite. </p><p>In a depression inspired move, the night he and Brendon broke up, Mac returned to the Rainbow in search of the man who lit the masochist flame within him. He sobbed as the man, nameless, dragged him into the single stall bathroom and slapped him across the face, but not before making him beg for it. </p><p>Mac came before he could even get a hand on his belt buckle. </p><p>He was free. </p><p>“You’re gonna only want to use your fingers. Never your palm, because it’s harder to aim and you could really hurt her like that,” He guided Dennis’ hand to his cheek, which needed a shave. He brought his other hand to cup his neck and jaw and it felt too romantic. </p><p>“Keep your other hand up to stabilize her neck so she doesn’t get whiplash, you know? Then just find the fleshiest part of her cheek and practice aiming there. And then when she’s ready, go for it. Lightly at first and then more, if she wants.” Mac hoped he was delivering this as rote as possible, praying he could divert from his emotions for a few minutes more. </p><p>“I can do that. Much easier than I thought,” Dennis muttered, focusing on Mac’s face, his hand slowly rising and falling on the same spot to get the aim right. “Can I try now?”</p><p>There was very little turning back now. At a stronger time, Mac would have said no. The boundary would have been up the moment they walked in the door, and he would have been asleep by now. But being able to <em> feel </em> something that wasn’t utter dread for the first time in weeks was too enticing to pass up. </p><p>Nothing about this was a good idea. And yet.</p><p>Mac closed his eyes. “Do it. I’m ready.”</p><p>The first slap was chaste, no sting, very little sound. Nothing. Dennis hummed, satisfied at the ease. </p><p>“Try again, harder this time. If you want.” <em>Real casual. </em></p><p>The anticipation made the shock of the second hit electrifying. It wasn’t enough, but it was soothing that itch and Mac needed another scratch. Desperately. </p><p>“Was that okay? I don’t know how that feels good, man.” Dennis eyed him curiously, flexing his hand a few times. </p><p>“That was...great,” Mac exhaled forcefully, trying to focus. Dennis smelled so good and his dick was still irritatingly hard and was he always this close? “You learn so fast, Den.”</p><p>Dennis’ expression darkened. He still had his gaze fixed to Mac’s cheek. “Can I try again?” He asked quietly, like a dirty secret. </p><p>Their eyes locked before a Mac could establish a poker face, put up some kind of wall to make an illusion that this exact moment wasn’t a dream come true. His pupils had to be blown to hell. There was no way Dennis didn’t know what this was doing to him, and there was no way to cover it up now. </p><p>“Yes, please.” Mac matched his tone but he felt his voice break. He just needed a little more, just a tiny bit more.</p><p>Dennis gave Mac a few seconds to prepare before the next slap landed, hard and unrelenting on his cheek. Mac whimpered, eyes rolling back into his head as his muscles all unclenched. The pain was fleeting. It was how the pain made him feel that he had to keep chasing. </p><p>Dennis didn’t ask before slapping him a fourth time, his wrist flexing quickly after the previous blow. Mac was out of his mind, trying to ward off the need to touch himself. These pants were tight but the friction wasn’t satisfying enough. All he wanted was to submit, to fall to his knees and worship Dennis at his behest. This was a fantasy he didn’t even know he had.</p><p>But it wasn’t a fantasy. He was a test subject, a visual aide for Dennis to practice on before he returned to the real thing, a tiny blonde with gorgeous tits and pouty lips and everything Mac could never be. </p><p>Mac’s eyes flew open right as Dennis prepared to hit him again. His expression was unreadable, mouth slightly ajar, gaze fixed on Mac’s lips. Was he...enjoying this? Mocking him? His thoughts were spiraling. </p><p>“<em>Dennis</em>,” Mac gasped, grabbing his wrist tightly mid swing. He couldn’t catch his breath, pulse racing, orgasm brewing. Dennis inhaled sharply at the contact, looking fleetingly between Mac and his hand, speechless. </p><p>“I…” Mac had no words. This was uncharted territory.</p><p>Mac side stepped away in seconds, the need to flee overwhelming him. His cock felt heavy and a little tender. </p><p>“I’m sorry, I-I-I gotta go,” He stammered, backing farther away from Dennis’ stunned body, away from his warmth and his touch. Dennis still didn’t move, stupefied as Mac stumbled just slightly over his own feet. </p><p>“I’m just gonna…” It was like he was drowning from embarrassment. He couldn’t look back at Dennis as he scurried into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. </p><p>“Mac? Are you okay?” Dennis called, still far away like he hadn’t moved from his spot. </p><p>Mac’s head fell against the bathroom door as he finally pressed the heel of his hand into his groin. He bit his lip, quieting the sigh of relief before it could enter the awkward silence. “I’m fine, I’m fine I just,” <em> Think, lie, quick. </em>“I just feel like I have to puke, I drank too much, don’t worry!”</p><p>“Oh. Okay...feel better.”</p><p>Dennis seemed dejected, but Mac was really into hearing things these days, so who knew. </p><p>Without thinking, Mac turned on the shower taps as hot as he could handle and pulled off his clothes, tripping over clumsy feet. He could use a shower, and the noise could drown out “vomit sounds,” if Dennis asked.</p><p>If Dennis ever wanted to speak to him again, that is. </p><p>His cock hung, a bright and irritated red that had to be spread across his face and chest, too. This would be quick and dirty. He didn’t even want to be satisfied, just needed the release of it all. </p><p>Mac wasted no time stroking himself the moment he was under the spray, water cascading down his head. He couldn’t hear over the rushing, dissociating into a fantasy with an unsettling ease.</p><p>He had worked so hard to never think of Dennis while he jerked off. It was wrong to covet your best friend while you were in love, and he was so in love with Brendon, despite it all. For 4 years his most intense spank bank material had been only Brendon, only his big strong body and huge dick and soft lips and those life ruining dimples. After the breakup, his usual scenes brought him to tears, forcing him to seek out porn featuring specifically a dirty blond top and a brunette bottom. </p><p>It wouldn’t be much longer, the heat of the water and the pull of his hand and the sensation of Dennis slapping him driving his orgasm nearer. Dennis, on top of him, lips pressed to his ear and a hand gently on his throat, teasing, thrusting, faster…</p><p>***</p><p>Dennis couldn’t move his feet. He stood uncomfortably with a boner he was certain had touched Mac, spooking him into the bathroom and leaving Dennis to the brim with regret. </p><p>He should have never pushed Mac to help him. He didn’t even really like Sandra that much, to be honest, but he could try to like her. She was pretty and had a good job and was normal enough to not pass on irreparable trauma to the kids they would maybe have some day. </p><p>But Sandra wasn’t reason enough to ruin what little he had left with Mac, and he knew it. Mac worked really hard to split himself equally between Brendon and himself, and it always felt patronizing to Dennis. Like he was so petulant that this was Mac’s only recourse to preserve their friendship. </p><p>That’s what his therapist had said, anyway. If he was right, Dennis had refused to admit it. </p><p>And now he stood with an uncomfortable, inappropriate erection from watching his best friend melt to putty in his hands. </p><p>Quickly Dennis stripped down to his boxers, chucking his clothes into a corner. He turned off the lamp between their beds and crawled under the sheets, slipping his hand under his waistband. If he lasted longer than 30 seconds, it would be the work of witchcraft. </p><p>Dennis nestled his wrist amongst his soft, curly pubic hair, hand wrapped tightly around the base of his dick. He didn’t even bother shifting his thoughts to Sandra. There was no point in fighting it any longer. </p><p>This is where a relationship with Mac would have to live; imagined behind Dennis’ eyelids. Mac just wasn’t that into him and Dennis couldn’t blame him. He was nothing like Brendon. He was ugly inside, tarnished and mean. He could never love Mac like Brendon did, or be as tall, dark and handsome as him. </p><p>And now, after Dennis took him to his limits, desperate for a sign that Mac wanted<em> him </em>and not just what he was doing, there was never going to be a chance of them being together. He let it go too far. Just like he always did. </p><p>In his mind, Mac loved him and all his faults. He’d hold Dennis close, back arching as Dennis thrust fervently inside of him. Their bodies would be so hot, sticky and sweaty as they tangled the sheets away from the mattress. Mac’s moans would be like music, whispery and melodic. Dennis would lick and suck on the perfect column of his neck, lips tingling from the vibrations of Mac’s throat. And now, he could imagine fitting his hand under Mac’s chin just like he taught him, and squeezing just enough for Mac to buck underneath him, writhing through an orgasm so strong he sobs. </p><p>Dennis held his breath, twisting his wrist over the tip of his dick once, twice more. He came hard, body bucking with each wave. Like clockwork, the shame flooded in almost instantly. His limbs still crackled with that post climax electricity and all he felt was deep, overwhelming shame. </p><p>It was wrong, all of it. And Dennis was fully ready to stuff it down and never talk of this night again. </p><p>***</p><p>Mac watched sullenly as the remnants of his orgasm trailed down the drain, along with any hope or dignity he still had left. The water had started to run cold, and with sex drunk fingers Mac shut the tap, leaving him to stand in the cooling air. </p><p>If he was told he aged 10 years in the last few hours, nothing could convince him otherwise. What was left to feel when he had experienced the same gnawing pain of a love failed twice? </p><p>A survival instinct kicked in after he began to shiver, moving his legs out of the tub and his arms around a large, fluffy towel. A child stared back at him in the mirror, hair akimbo, sleepy eyed, tiny body wrapped in a grown up’s towel. Looking at himself this way shot him into a memory. </p><p>He was 8, maybe 9. His dad was in jail again, so it was just him and Momma. She was happiest when he was gone, even if she struggled financially. Ronnie was her best boy, and her best boy could take bubble baths when Daddy was locked up. </p><p>Bubble baths were for babies when Daddy was home. </p><p>After every bath she would wrap him up tight in a towel longer than his whole body and they would sit on the couch to watch the 8:00 news. He could lay his head in her lap and she would comb out his hair with smooth strokes, never pulling too hard. She liked his bangs and so did he, so she would always comb it forward. </p><p>Daddy was too rough when he combed it. Said, <em>"This was how you made a man, with toughness and pain and grit."</em> Bangs were for girls. He combed it back, slicked it with hard gel so Mac looked like a man. That’s how real men wore their hair. </p><p>It was always colder when Daddy was home. </p><p>One night the news told a story of a couple living in a nursing home. They had just died within a week of one another after being married 60 years, like a fairytale. The husband was very sick, and very old, but the wife was in good health for her age. The day he died, the wife’s health turned immediately for the worst. The doctors had no explanation for it and no treatment seemed to work. She died 7 days after her husband, almost to the hour. </p><p>The couple’s children were fraught with grief. How could this happen? They had only prepared for their father’s funeral. Now they were tasked with burying both their parents. </p><p>The autopsy revealed the wife died of takotsubo cardiomyopathy. Mac never forgot the word, even though he had a hard time reading back then. Broken heart syndrome. The grief was just too much to bear. She was so lost without her husband she couldn’t live a moment longer. Her kids thanked her tearfully on screen, saying into the microphone how much they loved her for holding out as long as she did, so they could all say goodbye. </p><p>He remembered his Momma saying that she didn’t know if she had that kind of heart, one that could break so quickly. She had had a rough life, she said, one that hardened her away from feelings like this. </p><p>“But you? My sweet Ronnie, you have that kind of heart, my baby,” she murmured, unraveling a knot with her spindly fingers. “Your heart is so soft and full of love. I don’t know where you get it from, Ronnie, I swears I don’t. Protect it and it’ll never break.”</p><p>Mac didn’t know what she meant then. He wished now that he would have listened. </p><p>There were no more tears left to cry. If his heart was really broken, at least he would die in a bed next to Dennis, his first love, his truest love.</p><p>And Brendon would never have to worry if Mac still loved him, because he did. It wouldn’t hurt like this if he didn’t.</p><p>He left Mac’s apartment before Mac could tell him he would love him forever, just walked out while Mac stood there, tongue-tied and weepy. They would play his cause of death on the 8pm news, takotsubo cardiomyopathy, and he and everybody else would think that Mac loved him so much, his heart couldn’t take being without him. They could all think that it was a tragedy that Mac loved Brendon so fully for 4 years, him and nobody but him, and died because they couldn’t be together. </p><p>Mac could take loving Dennis to the grave. He didn’t have much choice. </p><p>The room was dark when Mac reentered, haphazardly dressed in only his jeans and socks. Dennis had his back to him, sleeping soundly, ignorant of the ways in which tonight had shattered Mac. </p><p>It was best this way. </p><p>Mac slid under the covers and let his eyes fall closed. </p><p>He could worry about tomorrow if he woke up. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I did a comical amount of research on proper slapping and choking technique so I'm not saying I hope I taught you something but I'm also not NOT saying that either. </p><p>I'd love to hear what you think! Please let me know!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Nobody Saves Me The Way You Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dennis and Mac celebrate 10 years of friendship with a little bit of coke and a lot of feelings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WOW remember when I said I was going to be better about updating this? Shocker I told a lie! I finished this maybe a month ago and finally forced myself to sit down and edit it and deem it suitable for consumption. To all 3 people who have been actively looking forward to this I apologize, but I have some more Mac/Den in the works (and maybe this was worth the wait?) so please forgive me! </p><p>TW for mentions of drug use.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When it finally happens, it’s ten years overdue. And influenced by a bit of blow and a lot of loneliness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They never spoke of that night in the ski lodge. Mac woke up, heart intact, and stuffed that memory down tight in order to pretend. He had been playing pretend for a while now, but this performance would have to be the role of his lifetime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to play Dennis’ platonic, happy best friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dennis broke up with Sandra days after they got back from skiing, Mac drank with him all night until he passed out on their couch. And the next week, when a pretty girl strolled into the bar with her friends, Mac scored her number for Dennis. He pressed Dennis’ dress shirt for their date and helped tie his tie. He did everything that a best friend was supposed to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they never once spoke again of that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac committed hard to the role. His plan was to fuck away his feelings until his love for Dennis was nothing but a fever dream, a childhood phase. Charlie and Dee and even Frank humored him a few times, tagging along to The Rainbow as emotional support. They all had assumed Mac was going through a slutty chapter in his life. One night stand after one night stand. It was only natural, surely, after having been in a relationship for most of his early 20s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody saw the destruction in Mac’s purpose. They didn’t know he was gaining a reputation amongst the bartenders for being “easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t know he was doing it all to dull the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So far, it was working. He could lay down and close his eyes and drift away, letting some guy who’s name he didn’t know plow him into threadbare sheets so he could forget. Once they came, Mac was half dressed and ready to leave before the condom hit the garbage can. Rarely was it ever enough for him to get his own nut. No fuss, no feelings. With each lay he could look at Dennis in the eye for longer. He could sit next to him and smell his cologne and make him laugh and not long to touch him. It was working. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like it was working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac always liked to celebrate the anniversary of their friendship, and in recent years Dennis had been more active in the festivities. The date was technically made up, May 16th, because they couldn’t agree on the actual day. Dennis said it was June 20th, 1993, towards the end of the school year, as the first day he can remember wanting to actually hang out with Mac. Mac said it was April 17th of that same year, when Dennis invited him to his birthday party at his house. It was to bring drugs, of course, but Mac thought it should count. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, Mac knew it should be the first day of school sophomore year, September 7th, 1992, when he saw Dennis for the first time. Sunkissed from a summer in Italy, he looked like a supermodel. Perfect hair, expensive clothes, even his teeth under his braces were pearly white. Their paths hadn’t crossed at all freshman year and Mac hoped they’d share a class, just so he could be in his atmosphere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were partnered up for a history project that had a due day a month after it was assigned. Every time they met, Mac wore Dennis down little by little, offering to roll his joints and discounts on dubs just to prove that he could be cool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It might have taken nearly the entire school year for Dennis to call Mac a friend, but it was worth it. Dennis’ friendship kept him from getting put in the system, brought him to his first boyfriend, gave him ownership of a bar and some financial security. It was all worth it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they picked May 16th as a compromise, and celebrated that every year by doing something a little reckless, and more recently, expensive, with the addition of Frank’s credit card. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How you feeling, man?” Dennis asked, habitually rubbing his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This year’s reckless thing was coke. A little reckless because they both know how addictive a personality Dennis has, and a little expensive, just to be sure it was the good stuff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac was absolutely buzzing. He teetered on the line between being high enough to do something stupid and comfortable enough that the beer in his hands wouldn’t cross fade him too bad. He raised his can at Dennis from across the couch in a toast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel fucking fantastic bro,” He meant it, no lies. The friendship anniversary day was easily the best day of his whole year, high praise coming from a practicing Catholic. “To ten years of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis shakily picked up his own beer and leaned over to click the cans together, a nervous smile across his face. Mac pointedly ignored the flutter in his stomach like a reflex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To us.” He replied back, tilting his head to slurp noisily from the spout. Mac looked away, focusing on taking a chaste sip instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The remote sat between them, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Die Hard With A Vengeance </span>
  </em>
  <span>queued up on their DVD player. It was one of the first things Mac bought when Charlie moved out; a selling point for Dennis moving in with him. Dennis didn’t need much convincing, really, but a DVD player upped the ante. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both reached for the remote at the same time, their fingers brushing just so before Mac pulled back, letting Dennis claim it. “Let’s hold off for a minute, huh?” he asked regretfully, a tremble in his voice. “I’m tweaking a little bit. It’s been awhile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac noticed Dennis’ knee bouncing incessantly and shrugged it off. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been a good minute since they last did coke, probably because Frank sometimes made it look off putting. “That’s okay, Den. Let’s talk? Would that help?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah that’s good, let’s talk,” He stared away, focused on a spot on the floor. “You go first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac hummed, pensive. He felt like doing push-ups but that wasn’t what they had just agreed on. “We could talk about us? Can you believe we’ve been friends for 10 years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You asked me that first thing this morning, dick,” Dennis chided with a chuckle. He shivered. “But no, I can’t believe it. We made it 10 years without killing each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac scoffed through his nose at Dennis’ flippancy, even though he knew he was joking. “It’s not like you made it easy for me in the middle there.” He mumbled, his voice small to not ruin the moment. Dennis heard it anyway, finally meeting Mac’s eyes remorsefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...yeah,” he tossed his hands briefly in the air, helpless. Dennis wasn’t good at apologies. “What do you want me to tell you? You tried. And you know I noticed. I just...I just didn’t want to give </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> a chance cause I never thought he was serious about you,” Mac’s face twitched at Dennis’ refusal to say Brendon’s name, how casually he shrugged off his own behavior. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, not until the end, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To anybody else, this was a throwaway statement. To Mac, who often replayed the final weeks of his relationship with Brendon as he drifted off to sleep, this was a clue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Mac poked, knowing full well the information might hurt him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis took a sip of his beer before he answered. “Oh, I guess I never told you. But, to be fair Mac, there was really no right time to bring it up,” He sighed, a little troubled. “He…” Mac must have scowled. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Brendon</span>
  </em>
  <span> took me out to lunch to ask me for my blessing. I don’t know why me. You know, I barely even spoke to the guy and you have a dad and a mom and Charlie, for fuck’s sake. But he wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> blessing to ask you to marry him. And to move to Denver after the wedding or whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cocktail of emotions bubbled within Mac. Anger and euphoria and confusion, with something he couldn’t put his finger on. Relief that he didn’t have to choose but a sadness that he never got the opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like he was crying before the tears sprung forth from his eyes. The gasp that left his mouth shook his whole chest. “What...uh, what did you say back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis looked up, off put from his instant show of emotions. “What do you mean what did I say back? I said yes, Mac! Of course I said yes! Fuck,” Dennis turned his back to him, irked. “I might not have liked him, and boy did I not, but you’re my best friend and he loved you and shit. Do you think I’m some kind of fucking monster?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no I...I didn’t mean it like that, Den, I just…” Mac’s hands fiddled in his lap, looking for all the words he wasn’t ready to say yet. Brendon was always lingering in the back of his mind, a reminder of what he chose to walk away from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know he wanted to marry me, ‘s all.” Mac sniveled. Sadness mixed with coke was a weird sensation. Like he could start full body wailing at any moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis’ shoulders relaxed only slightly at the sound of Mac’s voice, but he didn’t turn around. “Well I really thought the fucker was gonna do it too,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Put a ring on your finger and swoop you away to Denver forever. And then we’d never see you again.” He peered at Mac over his shoulder, his face flushed a splotchy red. “I’d never see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac could only balk at the accusation, as if he didn’t spend four years of his life making himself available</span>
  <em>
    <span> only for Dennis</span>
  </em>
  <span> on purpose. How could Dennis think Mac would abandon their friendship if he moved away, after all he had done? After he stretched himself paper thin to separate the halves of his heart </span>
  <em>
    <span>only for Dennis</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> how hard Mac tried to always keep him involved in his life. He knew how many dinners and movie nights Mac forced just so he could never be called a “bad friend” for having a boyfriend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fucking knew that and still had the nerve to suggest otherwise.</span>
</p><p><span>“That’s not true Dennis, and you goddamn know it,” Mac snapped abruptly, tears hot as they streamed down his face. He hated crying when he was angry, but the coke had other plans. He stood up, striding to the other side of the couch so Dennis would have to face him. “I would have </span><em><span>busted</span></em> <em><span>my</span></em> <em><span>ass</span></em><span> flying back and forth every month just to see you.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Well you didn’t have to, Mac!” Dennis shouted back, standing up so he could pace fervently, what little of his high left influencing his temper. “We’ll never know what you woulda had to do because I bought the fucking bar so you wouldn’t leave!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis had said the quiet part out loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence in the room was maddening. Mac could only stare in disbelief as the pieces all began to fall together; how Dennis all of a sudden took interest in buying the bar he didn’t even like visiting instead of going back to school. How Brendon never mentioned marriage, not once, but always said he would one day broach the conversation when the time was right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How Denver was never brought up again after Mac signed on to own the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would he have said yes if Brendon proposed? Would they be living on a ranch in Denver, married, with two horses and some chickens and acres of land for their future kids to frolic on? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would he have gone to The Rainbow, unlocking a part of himself he never knew existed, if they were already planning on leaving Philly? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac hated that he’d never know the answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis waited nearly a minute before he spoke again, softer and apologetic. Mac couldn’t look him in the eye.  “Look, I...I didn’t know that Brendon would actually get the job. Truth be told he didn’t seem like that good of a nurse to me. And! He said he had no shot,” Dennis ran a hand through his hair, a habit when he didn’t know what to say next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, alright, it spooked me, man. Is that what you want to hear? I thought if I bought the bar and asked you to come with me, then he would back off from that moving shit,” Dennis took a few steps towards Mac, his hands up in surrender. “I swear dude, I didn’t know it would break you guys up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t good enough. Mac </span>
  <em>
    <span>worked </span>
  </em>
  <span>to preserve their friendship. Dennis just threw money at the problem with ski trips and a fucking establishment like that’s a normal thing people do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe you. That’s bullshit and you know it, bro,” Mac spat, his hands clenched into fits tight at his sides. “If it wasn’t for Paddy’s he would have proposed and, and I’d be happy and you KNOW IT!” It was Mac’s turn to pace, blood boiling, mind spinning. He was too high for this. “You had been waiting for us to break up from the moment you saw us together in your dorm room.” In the back of his mind, Mac was concerned about how fully prepared he now was to hit below the belt. They never spoke about that night either, and now it joined the other elephant in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t stand me being happy while you were miserable. Anything to make sure Mac knows his place, huh? Always second best to the Golden God. Always the fucking sidekick and never the hero.” Mac shoved at Dennis’ shoulders, nearly missing from his altered depth perception. He didn’t filter this thought either, and only regretted saying it a little bit. Dennis didn’t even look up, his head hung in shame or anger, Mac couldn’t tell. “Why did you do it Dennis? Huh? Why are you even friends with me? Why do you hate me so much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis shoved him back weakly, sadly. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> hate you, Mac.” He responded, voice straining with frustration. “I...goddammit Mac, I-“ he stammered, his hands moving through his hair like he could pull out the words he wanted to say straight from his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You what? Why did you do it, huh?“ Mac felt mean, and he didn’t know how to stop. ”Why didn’t you tell me Brendon wanted to marry me? Why did you really buy the bar?” Mac crowded his space, again forcing Dennis to look at him. “Answer me! Why did you do all that shit if you didn’t hate me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m fucking in love with you, goddammit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis had yelled, screwing his eyes shut as the admission left his mouth. He pushed Mac away, desperately  needing distance between them, but Mac had nearly turned to stone, frozen in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not after all this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did all that shit because I love you, asshole,” Dennis spoke with his face scrunched up, like he was bracing himself for Mac to punch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac couldn’t imagine moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m...I’m really fuckin’ in love with you. Like I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you forever or some gay shit like that. And I didn’t know how else to get you to stay. So, I just bought you shit because...I don’t know. And-and I know you don’t love me back. I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But at least if you were still in Philly I would still have my best friend. That’s why I fucking did it and...I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis was never sorry. Ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac’s mouth gaped around words that couldn’t come. There was so much to be said and he didn’t know where to start. None of this felt real. These words, plucked straight from Mac’s dreams and nightmares couldn’t possibly be real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis peaked one eye open, then the other. “Say something, man.” He looked startlingly sober all of a sudden, a cold sweat appearing on his bare skin as he waited for a reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rational part of Mac’s mind had since shut off. If Dennis really meant what he said, then it didn’t matter what Mac did next. Their friendship would have to sink or swim on its own. Mac just had to take the plunge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could second guess himself, Mac closed the space between them, chest to chest. They both trembled at the contact, coming down from the high with a lilt of anxiety. They hadn’t been this close together since the ski lodge, all those days and weeks and months ago. Dennis still smelled the same, Calvin Klein and booze and something nondescript. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis held Mac by the shoulders, not pushing, just grounding. Mac couldn’t read him right now if he tried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their faces were suddenly very close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mac I-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just shut the fuck up, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac leaned in, and with a courage and strength he hadn’t felt in a long time, just pressed his lips to Dennis’ in a light, quick kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t fireworks, like Mac had anticipated. It wasn’t like the movies, like how it felt with Brendon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was relief. A decade of tension, of ache and longing, gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve loved you the last ten years of my life, you stupid fuck,” Mac whispered, resting his forehead to Dennis’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The admission was so freeing he could have sobbed. No more secrets, no more pining, no more self destruction. Mac pressed another peck at Dennis' mouth but they were both smiling stupidly, a brushing of lips and teeth. Dennis chuckled, softly nuzzling Mac’s nose with his own and Mac absolutely swooned, heart beating out of his chest in such a way that it was cause for alarm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to make it real for Dennis before it was too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But look dude, I can’t take anymore heartbreak. I...I think I’d actually die if you left me, Den, I really would,” The idea of it sent a pang in Mac’s chest, right about where his lovesick heart laid. But he knew Dennis. He knew his impulsive behaviors and sharp proclivities. They both needed an out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you mean it, then I mean it. But if you can’t, then just fuckin’ let me go now and...we’ll pretend like it never happened,” Mac lied, but he had been lying for a decade. At least now he was free of his burden. “I promise. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis shook his head regretfully, the most honest, sad look on his face. He pulled Mac in closer, arm tight around his waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should have done this before he did.” He murmured, kissing Mac properly and fully before he could elaborate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac sighed into his arms, a third wave of respite cooling his nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>weightless</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac parted his lips just so to suck Dennis’ bottom lip between his own. Dennis hummed pleasantly, swiftly licking his tongue inside of Mac’s soft mouth. He tasted of the beer from earlier, and what was left of his Cherry chapstick, and Mac wanted more. He needed enough to cover 10 years of yearning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac naturally fell into submission, a prayer of thanks floating to the front of his mind as Dennis willingly took the lead, directing the slip and and slide of their tongues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To no surprise, Dennis was a really, really good kisser. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a gentle hand on Mac’s jaw Dennis slowed things down just enough to pull away, smiling as Mac automatically leaned forward to continue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey uh, what are we doing here, Mac?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac couldn’t help but look incredulous. “Pretty sure we’re making out, Den. Do…you want to stop?” Like a true product of the 80s, he slyly tucked his left hand behind his own back to cross his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck no. This is, this is really good,” Dennis blurted, a little embarrassed. Mac figured he was way off his game here. He reminded himself to laugh at this later, long after the moment is gone. “I just, do you wanna like...go to my room, maybe? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Predator</span>
  </em>
  <span> can wait until later, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac outright giggled, but he couldn’t help it. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dennis Reynolds </span>
  </em>
  <span>getting tongue tied over Ronald McDonald, of all people. “We’re watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>Die Hard, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Den.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could be watching somebody explain the cure to cancer and I wouldn’t give a shit, dude,” Dennis squeezed Mac’s waist with warm hands. ”I just want to keep doing this </span>
  <em>
    <span>not-standing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or whatever. If that’s what you want.” Dennis blushed a shade of red that was almost comically cute and Mac literally bit his tongue to keep from poking fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah that’s good, I want that,” Mac nodded, trying to not seem too over eager. He grabbed Dennis’ hand, uncaring that his palms were clammy, and held it tight as they closed the few feet to Dennis’ bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis sat on the edge of the bed first, looking up at Mac expectantly. “You still down for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac rolled his eyes with a laugh, sitting next to him closely. “Goddammit, I think I broke Dennis Reynolds. Bro, I’ve watched you pick up girls after blowing chunks in a bush in front of them. You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis smiled at his lap, where his hands fidgeted. “Yeah well, I wasn’t in love with those chicks.” He replied flippantly. Mac’s stomach somersaulted within him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Dennis you just,” Mac took Dennis' head in his hands. “You just have no fucking idea, dude.” Mac kissed him hard, hoping one day he would be able to find the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even still, Dennis would never be able to understand just how much Mac loved him, how much his body ached for Dennis’ touch. How he just knew this would be the first time in years that he would get a proper night’s sleep because Dennis loved him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dennis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac twisted his legs on to the bed, gently tugging Dennis forward to encourage him on top while keeping their lips sealed. Dennis made a sound of protest and held firm, leaving Mac to fall back on his elbows, frustrated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What now, Den? I want this, I promise!” Mac whined, resisting the need to adjust himself in fear it would spook Dennis more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I need to calm down, alright?” Dennis smirked light heartedly, to his chagrin. Mac noticed his hands strategically in his lap and his mind spiraled. That erection was because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’m a little, erm, excited. I don’t usually get like this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dennis?” God, he was being dense, and that was so sexy in a way Mac couldn’t vocalize. All that machismo and bravado was stripped away doing something he had never done before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac made a show of spreading his legs, exposing his own excitement pressed tight across the front of his jeans. “Get your ass on top of me, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis chuckled in disbelief as he climbed into Mac’s lap. They both sighed as their lips touched once more, and Mac encouraged Dennis to lay down with a socked foot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac moaned at the first touch of their groins, twin erections pressing into the thighs of the other. He rocked his hips up experimentally a beat before Dennis ground down against him and they both gasped, the strike of the metal against the flint, the flame erupting between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac breathed hard through his nose as they frotted against one another, kissing sloppy and bruising. Slyly he curled his hand around Dennis’, encouraging his fingertips to press into the hot skin of his waist. He arched his hips up, gasping into Dennis’ mouth as his hand hooked on to the waistband of his jeans. Mac couldn’t have led that horse closer to the water if he tried, but he was still afraid of pushing Dennis too far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Off, off,” Dennis muttered against his lips, to Mac’s delight and surprise. His fingers trembled as he snapped the button to Mac’s jeans open. “Wanna touch you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Den, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Mac swore back, taking a deep breath to focus himself. He had hoped things would escalate, but he also measured his expectations. If Dennis wanted to wait, Mac would be patient. Waiting was different when you knew it was a means to an end. He had waited for ten years with no end in sight. At least this waiting could involve kisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis eagerly palmed the front of Mac’s briefs with a shaky hand and Mac whimpered, the contact not nearly enough. He kissed Mac a few times sweetly, briefly, before backing away to sit up on his heels. Mac did his best to read his expression for any trepidation, but his gorgeous blue eyes were nearly black, his pupils blown, a dazed smile between his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath of his own before he bent down over Mac’s heaving frame. He confidently kissed his clothed chest, taking an agonizing and purposeful minute as his lips traveled downward towards his eager erection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grin like the Cheshire Cat Dennis bared his teeth, carefully biting the waistband of Mac’s briefs and letting in drop to his skin with a snap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Dennis in his element. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teasing, the sexiness, this was the Dennis Reynolds Mac was dying to be wooed by. The sharp, quick sting of pain had Mac keening for more, arching his hips up for any bit of friction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lift up, okay?” Dennis asked, encouraging Mac’s ass up off the bed to get his pants down and away. Mac barely helped, too in awe that Dennis was seconds from seeing him at his most vulnerable. Every time they had been naked together before now sneaking curious looks, in locker rooms and before bed and skinny dipping, didn’t count. That might as well have been practice for this moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac had never been self conscious around Dennis before, but now he was bare, cock hard and rosy, and fully in display. Mac watched Dennis stare at his erection like he was a starving man, and Mac was the meal he was dying to devour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus. Look at you, Mac,” Dennis whispered, entranced. His voice sounded a little far away. He ducked his head back down to kiss the length of the sharp v of his hips, on one side and then the other. His nose dragged through Mac’s soft pubic hair until his lips rested by the base of his cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac couldn’t breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe I wasted so much time,” Dennis mumbled, placing an open mouth kiss to the side of Mac’s erection. Mac sucked in a sharp breath, finally, balling his fists at his sides. “‘M so sorry Mac. Fuck, you’re hot. Lemme make it up to you. I’m so sorry, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis wrapped a hand around his cock and Mac bucked, pushing his cock head into Dennis’ cheek, smearing a thin line of pre-come on his skin. Dennis paid it no mind, mumbling more apologies around kisses until his lips met the head, covering it in their silky warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac exhaled like all the air had been punched clean out of him. “Oh God Den, yes, yes please,” Mac begged, his words trailing off into breathy praise as Dennis’ tongue swirled around his cock head, lapping at his leaking slit. “More, please, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis obliged, bobbing his head lower and lower over Mac’s length. He hollowed his cheeks out and sucked with intention, his lips shiny and scarlet and sealed tight around Mac. His tongue pressed firmly to the vein trailing up the underside of Mac’s cock, working quickly over the frenulum and making Mac whine in pleasure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course Dennis was incredible at sucking dick. Of all the guys he had encountered in the recent months, not one sucked him this enthusiastically with such genuine skill, like Mac’s pleasure was his personal mission. His tongue moved with such eagerness that made Mac’s toes curl. He knew just when to suck hardest and that Mac liked a little teeth grazing at the top. It had only been a few minutes and Mac was out of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis’ hand had been working the inches of Mac he had yet to reach, until his lips met his hand...and his hand moved away. Mac forced his eyes open to watch Dennis take him all the way down, his beautiful eyelashes fluttered shut, just a picture of bliss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac had learned how to deep throat a long time ago, ever the people pleaser, but he had yet to experience the sensation on the receiving end. Brendon had tried and gotten close, but not close enough, his gag reflex a little too sensitive. And he’d be lucky if any of the strict tops he had encountered as of late even gave his cock a passing glance. What a first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s perfect dude, oh God, Dennis!” Mac willed his hips to stay still, consumed by the feeling of the back of Dennis’ throat, tight and wet. Dennis breathed deeply through his nose against Mac’s groin before bobbing his head a few times, fucking his throat around Mac’s cock before he had to come up for some proper air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within seconds Dennis was back down again, slowly working him until his lips were once more flush against Mac’s body. He didn’t cough or gag, just sucked and swallowed his throat around Mac’s cock head for several incredible seconds until he was seeing stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac stared at Dennis in awe as he pulled off, gulping down unobstructed air and resting his head on Mac’s hip, lightly fondling his balls as he recovered. His dick flopped onto his abs, harder and wetter than he’s ever been before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamn Dennis, that was incredible,” Mac exhaled, trying to catch his own breath. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis nodded wordlessly, opening his mouth wide to suck Mac’s right ball inside, tongue getting to work tracing gentle shapes over the sensitive skin. He slid down the bed, lying somewhat flat on his stomach and his arms spreading Mac’s legs wider. His right hand came up to stroke him slowly, the angle awkward and clumsy and so fucking good Mac wanted to bottle it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking A, please,” Mac cried, his hands gripping the sheets, ass pressed hard into the bed to quell the need to thrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That familiar tingly feeling bubbled behind his belly button as Dennis laved his hot tongue across his left ball, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>using his fucking nose </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hold up his scrotum, pressing his tongue hard into his perineum. Mac couldn’t focus, couldn’t sort the sensations as Dennis’ hand stroked him faster and his tongue trailed lower, and then lower still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God I’m co—“ Mac couldn’t get the word out, couldn’t conceive of speaking anything ever again when Dennis’ tongue gently licked at his hole, the most delicious tease that snatched Mac’s orgasm from the crux of his body. Mac rutted mindlessly into Dennis' palm as he came in thick, burning globs across his clothed chest, the tension in his body snapping like a rubber band. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis’ licks turned to kisses, feverishly hot against Mac’s sensitive skin. Slowly Dennis retreated, lessening the contact between their bodies, and still Mac could take more, willing to beg for it as his mind rebooted back online. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please fuck me. I want you. Right now, in me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis cocked an eyebrow, pushing himself back up on his knees. His hand still held traces of Mac’s come and God, that was too good. “Alright, okay, I can do that. I guess I’m just tumbling right out of the closet tonight, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac had sat up to rip his shirt off, careful to not get any jizz in his hair, and almost missed his comment. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do YOU mean? You couldn’t tell that was my first time sucking dick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac’s jaw dropped. Dennis had choked himself on his cock as his </span>
  <em>
    <span>first time </span>
  </em>
  <span>giving head. Dear God. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never outright asked Dennis what he got up to sexually and with </span>
  <em>
    <span>whom</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because there had just always been an understanding that Dennis was straight. Despite this, Mac had been fairly confident that Dennis had fooled around with a guy at least once in college, because that’s just the time to do it. Everybody did it, it’s what you do at this age, was it not? He’s pretty sure even Charlie tried kissing a guy just to make sure he didn’t like it, and he wouldn’t be permitted anywhere near anybody’s campus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis got cast in UPenn’s version of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Book of Mormon </span>
  </em>
  <span>purely to upstage Dee, the theater major, and spent 4 months constantly surrounded by some of UPenn’s most talented, horniest and gayest members of the student body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac did stage crew in high school. He knew what </span>
  <em>
    <span>teenagers</span>
  </em>
  <span> got into at cast parties. That much testosterone and close spaces mixed together? Surely ones featuring a mixture of drunk adults too young to buy beer but old enough to make bad decisions had to have gotten a little gay? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deep throating and eating ass isn’t usually something first timers do!” Mac replied incredulously, his mind reeling at the thought of his own first time, how utterly lost and nervous he had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis just shrugged nonchalantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that means you've never…” Mac let the sentence hang in the air, gesturing with his hands as if that would fill in the blanks. He was still a little orgasm dazed, and more than a little stuck on the whole throat-fucking-the-love-of-his-life-on-his-first-try thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Mac. Banging dudes wasn’t exactly a </span>
  <em>
    <span>priority</span>
  </em>
  <span> on my things to do in the last 10 years,” he looked away. Mac hadn’t seen Dennis so self-conscious.. “I don’t know I...I always held out a little hope that we’d be each other’s first guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac frowned, thinking regretfully of 19 year old Dennis, hoping to one day be Mac’s first same sex kiss. And then walking in on him getting a blowjob by some hot, nearly perfect jock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, he would have probably been a prick the last 4 years too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Den.” He couldn’t say he wished Dennis was his first, because it wasn’t entirely true. The thought felt disrespectful towards the beauty that he and Brendon made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis shook his head, waving away what sad thoughts he had to know were pooling in Mac’s brain. “This is better, because at least you know what you’re doing. And you can show me, tell me how you like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! We can take it slow,” Mac scooted closer to Dennis, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “Let’s be honest, I’ll probably dig whatever you do to me, Boy Virgin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, fuck off.” Dennis jokingly flipped him off before pushing him onto his back and climbing up his body, claiming his mouth with a sensual kiss as Mac chuckled at him. Everything may have felt a little virginal, a little awkward and hesitant, but it was good. They would always have this first time together</span>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should probably get naked, Den,” Mac remarked, dragging his hands slowly up Dennis’ curved back. He didn't want to rush things per say, but Dennis rutting against his thigh was causing as much chafing as it was turning him on. Gingerly he pushed Dennis off of him and turned to the bedside table, opening the drawer in search of supplies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found condoms, but where’s your lube?” Mac didn’t care for the brand Dennis had on hand, but there was time for complaining about that later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis was mid-fumble with the buttons on his shirt, giving Mac a cursory glance. “My what?” He asked, tossing his shirt aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lube? You know, slippery sex stuff, comes in a bottle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hell would I need that for if the condom is pre-lubricated?” Dennis replied, laying down to pull off his jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re joking, right?” Mac barked out a laugh, stopping immediately when Dennis wasn’t laughing with him, just staring at him bewildered. “Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re serious. Jesus Dennis, how were you fucking those girls with no lube?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh very successfully, I’ll have you know. Vaginas are usually...naturally slippery. Or they get there eventu-oh c’mon Mac, where are you going?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac slid out of bed with a groan, his legs still climax-wobbly, flipping Dennis off behind him as he headed towards the door. “To get a good condom and some goddamn lube! Just..get naked, dude. Jesus Christ, a pre-lubed condom up </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> asshole and nothing else. Are you out of your goddamned mind?” He rolled his eyes, more at himself for thinking Dennis was up to date on how to have sex most comfortably. “Fucking straight boy.” He muttered under his breath, leaving the room to take off in a jog to his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard that!” Dennis called back, losing his briefs and socks and discarding them to the floor. He stretched out, cock hard and thick laying across his hip. “I just had your ’gay boy’ dick in my mouth, I hardly think that constitutes ‘straight boy’ behavior.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah well until you figure out anal the gays will keep our lab-</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh my God.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac stopped abruptly in the doorway, hands full of a sleeve of condoms and a spare tube of lube, eyes fixated to Dennis’ crotch. He had seen Dennis’ dick plenty of times, but never hard and ready to go. He had probably taken bigger, sure, but none this beautifully sculpted, cut and </span>
  <em>
    <span>thick</span>
  </em>
  <span> as all hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis flexed his arms, tucking one behind his head and trailing the other down his body, still softly trimmed from the conditioning years. He could see every iteration of Dennis’ body like this and it made his heart ache all over again. He could remember when they were 16 and Dennis was so lithe his natural muscle made him look stronger than he was. He saw where Dennis had been playing hockey all year round, his arms so toned and his core so tight that you could bounce a quarter off his abs and Mac would be sure the quarter would break clean in half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, he waited for Mac with sharp angles and smooth curves, bony and round in all the right places and finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac was gonna claim him with hickies now and help him conceal them in makeup later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis touched his cock, fingers ghosting over his hard flesh, grinning stupidly at Mac. “You gonna ride this ‘straight boy’ or what?” He mocked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac snorted. “Nah, I’m putting </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to work, motherfucker,” he waved at Dennis to move over, laying down to take his place. “You wanna watch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac suppressed further laughter, pumping lube across his fingertips. “God, you have so much to learn, Den.” He chided, spreading his legs and tucking his slick hand between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis stared agog as Mac slowly pushed his middle finger inside of himself, thrusting gently. Mac mewled, a gorgeous little sound, and Dennis nearly went cross eyed trying to take it all in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac’s pointer finger joined the efforts not long afterwards, his hand curling to fit it completely inside. “Nnngh fuck,” he hissed, his body rolling down to meet his hand. “Get a condom on </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis usually would have sneered at being demanded to do anything, but Mac nearly growled at him in a way that suggested sexual hanger, so he obeyed. His hands trembled a little tearing one of the several packets open, trying to focus enough to pinch the tip and also not miss Mac eagerly spreading himself open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac peaked open one eye, inspecting Dennis’ work. Dennis missed the addition of his ring finger and he couldn’t exactly figure out how. “Put a lot, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ah shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, put a lot of lube on and come here. Hurry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis moved with urgency, lubing himself with several, seemingly excessive globs of liquid. Mac withdrew his hand and reached for Dennis with his clean hand, inviting him to lay on top of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was finally going to happen. It had been all fun and games up until this point, clearly. Sex would make it all real. Every feeling they’ve had up until this point would be out in the open. There was no more hiding, no more shirking away from the difficult baggage that littered their friendship, that brought them to this moment. This was the point of no return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis hesitated to move, taking in every inch of Mac’s body first with grateful eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Do I have to walk you through this part too?” Mac joked lightheartedly, nudging Dennis’ thigh with his foot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, I’m just...just tryna focus so I don’t blow this in 30 seconds,” Dennis was lying, this much they both knew. Mac looked smug but he didn’t press the issue, mostly because he felt the same. “Wanna give you the full Dennis Reynolds experience and shit.” He quipped with an uneasy smile, trying to shake the awkwardness that had befallen them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac couldn’t care less about how long it lasted, frankly, but he was losing his nerve. He had spent the better part of the last 8 months fucking his way through South Philly and still nothing could have prepared him for this moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The situation was new, but the smells and sights were all familiar and that was comforting. This was still Dennis, his Dennis that still puffed two spritzes of Calvin Klein into the air before walking through it. His Dennis, with product in his hair that cost more than Mac’s entire wardrobe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They could do this. They were made for this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snaked an arm around Dennis’ shoulder, pulling him down until his body lay flush against Mac’s.“C’mon, right now. I want it,” Mac said quietly against Dennis’ lips, wrapping his legs high around his back and canting his hips up. “Gimme whatever you got.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, yeah ok, ok,” Dennis kissed Mac distractedly, reaching between them to hold himself steady at the base, pausing for a beat before the head of his cock tentatively breeched Mac’s hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac held his breath, exercising every ounce of self restraint not to pull Dennis immediately inside of him. He couldn’t ruin his first time with his own wanton need, but the thought crossed his mind more than once as Dennis pressed forward achingly slow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God you’re tight, fuck Mac.” Dennis gasped, having held his own breath in the process. He slipped forward accidentally, the last few inches of his cock nestling deep within Mac in one fell swoop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They locked eyes in disbelief and awe, relishing in the sensations between them. They both lunged forward, crashing their lips together in a kiss that would absolutely bruise later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes Den, move, please, fuck me.” Mac encouraged, patting Dennis’ neck soothingly, twirling his fingers through the light hair at the base of his head. Dennis flexed his hips back, snapping them forwards with enough force to take Mac’s breath away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He set a tempo that was just fast enough to scratch the itch but Mac could tell Dennis was holding back. Still, the feeling of being filled by his life long crush was something inexplicable, like he could slow down to one thrust a minute and Mac would still be out of his mind, because it was finally happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t, Mac, shit,” Dennis sputtered through gritted teeth. His eyes were so glassy, his cheeks tinged a color of pink that Mac wanted to commit to memory. He kissed Mac crookedly once before pushing himself up onto his hands, changing the trajectory of his aim, picking up speed and spearing Mac’s prostate directly. The response it drew beefed up his confidence, and he fucked into Mac with more gusto. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, right there, right there, yes!” Mac groaned, back bowing in ecstasy as Dennis kept prodding his spot. His nails bit into the sweaty skin of Dennis’ shoulders, leaving small dents in their wake. “Don’t ever stop, please.” He begged, working his core so his ass met Dennis’ thrusts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blank stare crossed over Dennis for a moment, knocking him out of his rhythm. Mac whined, only half concerned, but Dennis dragged his cock over his spot once more and it was mildly forgotten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Dennis began to ask, trying to multitask as Mac tightened internally beneath him. “Do you still like being choked and slapped?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac possibly whited out at the suggestion, gathering his wits about him quickly enough to reach for the base of his dick and squeeze, trying to stave off the inevitable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, do it,” Mac nodded eagerly, unsure if he wanted to expose his neck or cheek first. “I trust you, do whatever you want to me, please, Den.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis slowed his thrusts down and Mac ached with need, ignoring his previous whimsical thoughts on slow fucking. That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> slapping was on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Safe word is green, right?” Dennis asked, sitting up on his heels. He pulled Mac’s ass up across his thighs, still taking care to rut shallowly inside of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac pouted his lip endearingly. “You remembered?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did, you Irish Catholic fuck. It’s your favorite color behind orange and white.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac barked out a laugh, causing a sharp involuntary clench around Dennis. “Oh don’t do that, I’m absolutely gonna blow it if you do that again,” Dennis swore, balling his fists together tightly to get ahold of himself. He flexed his fingers before fitting his left hand under Mac’s chin, just like he taught him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis set a bruising pace, foreseeing both of their orgasms on the horizon. His hand squeezed lightly around Mac’s neck for a few moments and Mac wailed, stroking himself rapidly when the hold was released. Mac opened his mouth to ask for more, but Dennis had already slid that same hand up from his face to stabilize his neck, his other hand swiftly smacking the meaty part of Mac’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears sprung to his eyes from the sting but the pleasure followed soon after, Dennis’ stabilizing hand back to choking him, his core tight to keep his weight from crushing his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac was higher now than he was from the lines, pleasure ramping up to a crescendo within him. “M-m-more, yes, yes gimme more,” he blubbered, fresh tears springing to his eyes as Dennis slapped him sharply once again. “Nnhm, I’m gonna come, fuck, don’t stop, </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t stop.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mac chanted, stroking himself faster, craving that release. He twisted his wrist at the tip and God, it couldn’t have felt better with Dennis above him, finally his. </span>
</p><p><span>“I’m close, shit, you feel so good, baby, so tight. Goddammit, I wanna do you forever, just like this,” Dennis crooned. He brought his right hand back to Mac’s hips, clutching tight for leverage, his left hand a tease still on Mac’s neck. He pushed once more on Mac’s carotid, revelling in the way his eyes rolled back in head. “So fucking good. I...I love you so much, </span><em><span>oh</span></em> <em><span>fuck</span></em><span>.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Mac had heard Dennis proclaim it earlier and still, it sounded even sweeter while he was buried deep inside of him, choking him with such tender care, all he ever wanted. He gasped a sob, unable to do nothing but wail as his orgasm crashed into him without my preamble, shooting white hot over his chest and hand, all from Dennis’ words. Mac had dreamed this moment hundreds of times and nothing was as beautiful as the real thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, Mac,” Dennis was breathless, still thrusting relentlessly. “Right there...right there!” His hips stuttered, once, twice, and his climax took hold of his nerves, every inch of his body trembling in his ecstasy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac sighed at the strong twitching he felt against his walls, excited for the day Dennis would make a mess of him over and over, marking him as his and only his. He rocked with Dennis, letting him rut it out until he was shivering from the overstimulation, his body heaving trying to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac wished he could frame this moment, Dennis a picture of beauty as he came down, truly blissed out. He didn’t know Dennis was even capable of looking so relaxed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Dennis panted, taking his hand away from Mac’s neck. Slowly he pulled out, gently patting Mac’s thigh in apology as he slumped to the side. He turned to Mac, a stupid, sated grin on his face. “I mean, wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac snorted, stretching his legs out. He probably looked just as dopey, still riding the high with tears still leaking from his eyes. “Baby, huh?” He sniffled, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Didn’t take you for the pet name type.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis blushed as he busied himself with doing away with the condom. He fished for words as he offered Mac a tissue from the nightstand. “Listen, you were really tight and I was about to nut and, and I can’t be held accountable for what-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I liked it, Den,” Mac interrupted, cleaning himself up haphazardly. He never liked being called ‘baby’ before. But Dennis? Dennis made him feel warm inside when he said it. “I kind of really like that you get a little fuckdumb. ‘S cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled on his side to best see Dennis, ignoring his reply and the slow trickle of remaining come on his chest. “I love you too, by the way. Like a metric, shit ton of love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that even mean? Shut up dude,” Dennis laughed, inching closer. He rested a hand on the swell of Mac’s ass and Mac shivered at the touch, so intimate. “C’mere, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac welcomed his kiss, tender and slow, settling into the post coital high for the first time in a long time. Dennis squeezed him tight, rubbing a soothing hand down his back. Their lips were both puffy from the evening and still they kissed like they couldn’t get enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So about how many more times can we gonna do that again?” Dennis asked crassly after such a tender moment, pressing his semi hard erection into the tacky skin of Mac’s belly. “I’ve got some catching up to do if I’m gonna be well versed in gay sex.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac raised an eyebrow, amused and similarly aroused once more, even though he was up two orgasms to Dennis’ one. He reached for the sleeve of condoms left on the pillow and tore one off, taking note of the six remaining. He pushed Dennis flat on his back and straddled his waist, grinding his ass against Dennis’ cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure about this Den? S’gonna be a long night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis smiled, lovingly pinching Mac’s nipple, grinning harder at the moan it draws from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just call it making up for lost time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>+1</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Read the list one more time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? I’ve read the goddamn list 30 times, I think I know what it says.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just do it Dennis, goddammit. Read everything off so I can check the bags, ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac pulled their full grocery cart off to the side of the entrance, a mild annoyance at all of the other last minute Thanksgiving shoppers with their same idea. He only wanted to make this trip one time and there was little room for error. If they didn’t start prepping by 3pm, they wouldn’t make it to the bar in time for Thanksgiving Eve, and then Mac would have to spend even more time cooking on Thanksgiving proper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis was just here so he didn’t get yelled at. They had somehow managed to make a lot of friends in the last few years from church and the gym, and Mac had volunteered to cook the brunt of Thanksgiving dinner for twelve people, including Frank and Charlie, who really ate for four. His job for the next 24 hours was to mitigate Mac’s stress, so that after all the leftovers were packed up and the guests had all left, he would still have a warm bed and a boyfriend that <strike>liked</strike> loved him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, ok, rice,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green beans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac shuffled the freezer bag around. “Green beans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet potatoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis’ face went red as the words left his mouth, watching Mac lifting and moving the produce around to find them. Sweet potatoes were on his side of the store, and he knew for certain there were no sweet potatoes in their cart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac caught on quickly, throwing his hands up in a huff. “Seriously Dennis?! I need this dinner to be perfect and I cannot do that without the goddamn sweet potatoes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dennis crowded his space quickly, gently putting his hands on Mac’s shoulders. He pulled his car keys from his coat pocket and held them out. “I’m sorry,” He said softly, a phrase he had become close friends with. A side effect of dating a hyper sensitive bottom for nearly two years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re freaking out, for good reason!” He added quickly, remembering his position as the guilty party. “And it’s my fault. Why don’t you just go in the car and wait for me, and I’ll go back in to get the sweet potatoes? And I’ll check the whole damn list twice, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac took a deep, centering breath. He snatched the keys from him, stuffing his hands in his pockets to ward off the cold. Dennis leaned in and kissed him quickly on the cheek before pushing him softly towards the parking lot. “Fine. But if you forget anything on that list so help me God Dennis I’ll-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac turned to walk away as a cart ran directly into his hip, causing him to call out in pain. He doubled over, clutching his hip like he was certain a replacement was on the horizon. “Goddammit, that hurt!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Dennis holding him up on his right and a foreign hand touched him on the left, sturdy and strong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god I’m so, so sorry!” The voice was startlingly familiar. The whole moment felt familiar. Too much was happening at once. “This was completely my fault! Are you...wait, Mac?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac tensed, straightening himself up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a bad day, at his most stressed, only Mac could run into the only other man to ever make him weak in the knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Brendon.” Mac spoke quietly, in a mild shock. His hip throbbed but the pain was distant enough to ignore. Two years and some change and there he was, his second first love, standing before him in front of a Wegman’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon still looked the same, still tall as ever, wearing a pair of scrubs and a very lived in jacket that Mac remembered him wearing during the fall. His hair was longer on top now and buzzed short on the sides, keeping up with the times. His dimples puckered as he smiled in joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac’s heart thankfully did not skip a beat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God, of all people to run into!” Brendon joked, leaning in for a hug. Mac awkwardly embraced him back, standing on his toes to meet his shoulders, not remembering how they used to do this. He craned his neck to avoid snuggling his chest. “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac waved it off, aiming for indifference as they broke apart, his hands shaking. He really didn’t need EMT Brendon to arrive. “It was an accident, I’m fine, I’m fine. Always running into you, huh?” The laugh they shared felt like a weird inside joke, and when Dennis moved into his space again silently, Mac guiltily remembered his manners. “You remember Dennis, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! How are you, man? How’s the bar?” Brendon held his hand out, and with no hesitation Dennis shook it strongly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac held his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not bad, not bad. Bar is actually doing really well, yeah. People home from college so we’re extra busy around this time, yep,” Dennis was vamping. He hated small talk, which could only mean he was bound to find a way out of this conversation soon. “You know what? I’d love to stay and chat, but I forgot some things back in the store and we’re crunched for time, so I’m gonna go, right Mac?” Dennis pressed his hand to the small of Mac’s back and squeezed his coat. Dick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhmm, yep, I’ll see you in the car.” Mac muttered back, still a little irritated with him. Dennis kissed him on the side of his mouth, returning to the helm of the cart. Mac blushed; they were maybe weeks from getting engaged and still a little kiss like that made him feel special. He averted his eyes from Brendon’s, not missing the questioning arch in his eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to see you again, man.” Dennis waved, and to his credit it sounded like he meant it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon waved back, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “You too, Dennis, take care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in as they were left alone, people still milling about around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how have you been? What are you doing back?” Mac asked, dodging having to talk about the obvious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon chuckled lightly. “Well, funny story, I actually got offered the Head Nurse position at Philadelphia General a couple of months ago. Better salary and I can be close to my parents again, so I took it. I helped Denver find a replacement, sold my house and I moved back about two weeks ago. Today was my first day, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh. Only two years away. Maybe Mac could have done it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But maybe they wouldn’t have survived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s really great, Bren...don,” Mac cleared his throat, covering himself. “I’m really proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” He smiled bashfully, humble as ever. “I’m gonna miss Denver, though. I loved my house.  Mountains were only 20 minutes away so I could ski whenever I wanted. And Maggie and I had so much space.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac felt his face go hot all over. So he found a woman, that was okay, Mac could handle that. “Maggie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon pulled his phone out, flashing the lock screen. A cattle dog laid in a sunburnt, open field just before moonrise in the picture, the last bits of light in the foreground illuminating her speckled body. Mac slapped himself in his mind for jumping to conclusions. “That’s her on the property. My old lady,” He looked at the photo fondly before putting his phone away. “I wish you could have seen it. I think you would have liked to visit, but your spirit would have wilted out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Mac shrugged, feeling uneasy about dwelling on it. “I’m glad you got to experience it though. I know it was your dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon nodded absently, like he didn’t necessarily agree. “So,” He coughed nervously into his elbow. “You and Dennis, huh? I didn’t see that coming.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac wondered briefly if he was lying, thinking back to all the things in their relationship Dennis consciously or unconsciously tried to sabotage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither did we honestly, heh,” Half a lie, because he was too oblivious back then to have really put it together. Mac shoved his hands into his pockets, anything to keep his hands from fiddling. Still, guilt crept into his thoughts. “It just kind of happened about a year and a half ago, and it’s been pretty great.” He felt like he was being braggy, but he couldn’t help it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loving Dennis had been his greatest adventure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon’s face softened fondly and Mac wanted to hug him again, for real this time. “I don’t know how much this is worth coming from an ex, but you look really happy. I mean it. Happier than you did when we were together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that, Bren,” The nickname was warm this time tumbling from his lips. He missed it. “You made me very happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...but not like this. I know I always said we were supposed to run into each other at that party for a reason, and I always thought that reason was that we were going to be together forever. I thought that you were my person, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac shook his head. Tears began to sting his eyes, but he sucked it up. “Things changed, but I never, ever stopped-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that wasn’t it, was it?” Brendon cut him off affectionately, determined to get his point out. “All that happened between us was so that you could find Dennis.That’s your person. He’s your reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything felt still and solemn around them. Those tears slipped down Mac’s stubbled cheeks, a relieving release, the quiet guilt that he could never really shake slipping away. “And yours? What was your reason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think mine was to just be happy, so I got what I wanted. I will never regret or, or feel bad about the time we spent together, Mac. Those were some of the best years of my life. I went out and adopted Maggie the week I moved in because I just missed you so much. She’s opened up a whole new way to live for me, a new kind of love I didn’t know I could experience. What a great thing you gave me, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all this time Brendon could still puff Mac up to the clouds without even trying. He felt overwhelmingly lucky at that moment to call Brendon an ex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt even luckier to have been loved by him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you got me there,” Mac replied lightheartedly, wiping his cheeks. “You know, the day you left, I never got to tell you that I still loved you. Cause for what it’s worth, you were a pretty damn good boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon laughed, his smile pressing those dimples deep into his cheeks. They were more endearing to Mac now, nostalgia with none of the longing. That’s what Brendon was now; sweet feelings from his past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I appreciate that, Mac. And I really wish you guys the best, honestly.” He reached out for another hug and Mac settled into his embrace like they used to, his nose pressed against his pec. He smelled different, unfamiliar, but it was nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It meant Mac had forgotten his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll see you guys around sometime? I can’t imagine the gay scene has improved much since I left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac swelled at the idea of going on a double date with Brendon. All he wanted now was to see him as happy as he was with Dennis, and there really was only about 3 places in South Philly that the hot gay guys went to anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d really like that. I gotta set you up and we can do a double date,” Mac replied, playfully punching his shoulder. He thought of a few guys, guys he hadn’t slept with, who he could match up with Brendon and he felt giddy at the prospect. “I’ve got your number.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brendon punched back, his fingers unfurling to give Mac one last squeeze. “It was really good to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same, dude. Happy Thanksgiving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy Thanksgiving, Mac.” Brendon took control of his cart, turning it towards the entrance, and for the first time Mac watched him walk away with joy in his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac strolled the distance of the parking lot to find the Range, tucked far away to avoid dents from careless drivers and wayward carts. He popped the trunk, hopping inside to sit on the pristine carpet, left with his thoughts while he waited for Dennis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t believe how happy he felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It might have been minutes later, or an hour, before Mac could hear Dennis approach. “Alright, I got everything,” He proclaimed from a yard away, shouting over the noise of the cart’s wheels creaking from the weight of the groceries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And before you start, I checked the list multiple times, I’ve got every last thing. Aaaand...I added a little something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked far too smug as he pulled a bouquet of white roses from one of the bags, presenting it to Mac with his lips puckered for a kiss. The light, crisp smell of the flowers wafted between them as Mac tugged him closer, kissing him like there was nothing left for them in this world but this moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, goddamn. It’s just flowers, Mac,” Dennis said casually, pecking Mac once more. “C’mon now, we gotta get all this shit in the fridge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac sighed dreamily, making no moves to let Dennis go. He smoothed a hand over Dennis’ jaw, leaning close to touch their foreheads together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just love you, so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, baby boy. I love you more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take me home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had to write Brendon one more time. I just really fell in love with him and what he meant to Mac.<br/>Comments keep me going like a really weird Tinkerbell.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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